


A Woman Scorned

by msgenevieve



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, off profile, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-03
Updated: 1999-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The secret to being a successful Valentine operative is the ability to separate your body from your mind, sex from love. It also helps if you're not desperately in love with someone else, but there are ways to make the flesh willing, even if the spirit is weak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set during the events of the Season Two episode "Off Profile" and contains massive spoilers for that episode. All the characters of La Femme Nikita (and the words they speak that were not written by myself) remain the property of WB, USA and Fireworks Entertainment.

~*~

 __

'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,  
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'

"This is Andrea Karsov. She was transferred to Section Two from our Bejing sub-station nine weeks ago. Ever since Andrea's promotion to Level Three, Section Two lost four key operatives on seemingly low-risk missions."

"To all intents and purposes, the missions were perfectly profiled. No hint of incompetence, with one exception. Each of the operatives who died on a mission profiled by Karsov had, at one point or another, been involved in an altercation with her."

Operations pauses, exchanging a pointed look with Madeline before continuing. "Andrea will be joining us tomorrow for an indefinite period."

I study the head and shoulders shot on Operations' wall screen. She's not unattractive, although the brightly dyed red hair clashes with her pale skin. Andrea Karsov is small-boned and petite, like Simone. And Elena.

"Is she in abeyance?"

"No. Section Two has not been able to prove that the anomalies were deliberate, and our counterparts in Bejing have been less than cooperative." He smiles at me cynically. "Their official stance is that she was one of their best profilers, and they were sorry to lose her."

"Are we to evaluate her?"

"Not quite. If Section Two is mistaken and the deaths were accidental, then we will work with Karsov in order to eradicate any further errors on her part. However, if the intel proves to be correct...." He breaks off, not bothering to point out the obvious. If the intel from Section Two is correct, Andrea Karsov will be cancelled.

"The problem is that we are still waiting for Systems at Two to fully analyse the mission tapes for all anomalies. We need to push her to her emotional breaking point in such a way that Section One won't be compromised should the accusations against her prove to be unfounded.

Operations studies the face of the woman on the screen carefully. "Her profile shows a cool and analytical mind, not given to outbursts of emotion. Any show of emotion, to be more accurate. But we have found a weakness."

 _And how does this involve me?_ This private meeting is being held in Operations' office, rather than the briefing room. It's three o'clock in the morning, and Section is almost deserted.

I suppress a yawn, trying not to think of Elena's unhappy reaction a few hours ago when my mobile rang. Adam has his first judo lesson tomorrow. _Today,_ I correct myself, thinking of the time. Elena was more than a little upset that my demanding new client in Madrid had called an urgent board meeting to discuss his account. Adam will have to discover this new experience without his father...again.

I sigh silently as Operations reaches for the remote control once more.

"Eighteen months ago, Karsov was in a relationship with this man, Joseph Lee." An image of a good-looking Eurasian man flickers into life. "Lee was a Level Five operative in Bejing, specialising in profiling. It was only after the Asian Sector sustained one too many losses that Lee was investigated and found to be an agent for Red Cell."

Operations flicks the remote and the glowing display vanishes, darkening the room slightly.

"Madeline?" Operations invites her to speak. Madeline turns to face me, her dark eyes unreadable as she continues the briefing.

"Needless to say, Andrea Karsov was not pleased by this revelation. She had been intimate with him for six months, and he had fooled her completely. Our intel suggests that Lee was her first serious relationship inside Section. Karsov was furious for two reasons. Not only had Lee attempted to implicate her, claiming that she was also an informant for Red Cell, but at their last meeting before he was cancelled Lee calmly informed Karsov that although the sex had been quite pleasant, she had never meant anything to him."

It suddenly becomes quite clear to me what direction this briefing is taking.

Operations clears his throat. "Madeline has run this scenario through many times. Andrea Karsov may be emotionally unstable to the point of being pathological, but she is also a brilliant profiler capable of covering up any trace of off-profile activity. Dredging up suppressed anger regarding her rejection by Lee should be enough to open up old wounds and force her emotional hand."

Madeline smiles at me pleasantly. "It's a valentine mission, Michael. Nothing more. Nothing less. I understand that we haven't had to use your...skills in this area for quite some time, but I assume that this will pose no problems for you?"

"No."

She tilts her head slightly, studying me.

"I also hope that there will be no problems with any members of your team regarding this scenario?" It's a challenge, rather than a question. I meet her gaze calmly. We both know what she is inferring.

 _Nikita._

I give Madeline a wry smile. "I'm sure there won't be." I walk slowly away, my heart sinking.

 _I'm sure there will be._

~*~

The Medlab technicians rush past us, Simpson lying pale and still on their gurney, the white undersheet rapidly turning bright red. Roberts and Morton trail slowly in their wake. Roberts is limping badly, but he'll live...which is more than I can say for Simpson.

Nikita and I walk through van access, exhausted and more than a little shaken, only to be greeted by Operations at the door, his face as grim as I've ever seen it.

"Why did you abort?"

I take a deep breath. I have just fended off several invasive questions from Nikita during our return. She's no fool. She might not realize that Operations and I deliberately skewed the profile five minutes before the mission sequence commenced, but she knows that something is not right. My terse non-committal replies finally silenced her, but I felt the weight of her stare all the way back to Section.

"We had to. We went critical ten minutes into the Mission."

He glares at me. "We lost Korda. We'll have to start from scratch."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my real target walking down the long corridor towards us. I look at Operations, my words a deliberate accusation.

"Deployment was off by a factor of two. The Mission Profile was faulty."

A feminine yet strident retort rings out in the quiet hallway.

"No."

Direct hit, I think as I turn to catch my first glimpse of Andrea Karsov in the flesh.

She's smaller than I thought she would be, her head only just reaching Nikita's shoulder.

And she is attractive. A strange mix of the exotic and the plain. Her hair is dyed a fiery red, but she wears hardly any makeup, no jewellery. She is dressed in black from head to toe, but that is not unusual in Section. You learn after a while that blood doesn't show as much on black clothes.

She ignores Nikita and Operations, focusing solely on me. "There was nothing wrong with the Profile."

I turn to Operations, hoping that I will manage to convey just the right tone of quiet outrage. "Who is this?"

"Andrea Karsov. A new Mission Profiler." I swear the man is fighting the urge to smile, damn him. It's bad enough, having to do this ridiculous play-acting in front of Nikita and Birkoff. Now Operations almost looks as though he wants to wink at me. Our little private joke.

Andrea looks me up and down before meeting my angry stare quite calmly. "The flaw was in your execution."

Operations flings a terse order over his shoulder as he walks away. "Check the tapes, get this settled. You'll be going out again soon."

~*~

I watch Michael as he follows the new mission profiler through to Systems. Normally, I love finding a new female to work with in Section. A girl gets a bit tired of all the testosterone posturing that goes on around here. But...okay, I'll admit it. I met Andrea all of ten seconds ago, and I've already decided that I won't be adding her to my Christmas card list. I study her, struggling to keep my inner bitch at bay, but it's not a battle I fight very hard.

 _What is with the hair?_ Bright red and very spiky. It would be okay if she was planning to single-handedly bring back the punk movement, but she seems to have forgotten the makeup that goes with it. _Listen to yourself...you sound like an old nana._

Andrea is still insisting that the profile was not at fault. "Look at Sector Five."

I try to concentrate on what Birkoff is showing me on his computer, but I can't. I can't keep my eyes away from the other workstation, where Michael and Andrea are going over the tapes from our disastrous mission.

Andrea points out something on the screen to Michael. "They didn't penetrate as the plan required."

Michael replies almost disdainfully. "They couldn't. The perimeter was unsecured." _Your fault_ , is his unspoken meaning.

Andrea refuses to back down and shifts her body closer to his, almost as though she is trying to intimidate him. _Hmm. Good luck._ "For less than thirty seconds."

Michael throws Andrea a quick glance, clearly unimpressed by her statement. "That's unacceptable."

I glance quickly down at Birkoff, feeling guilty about not paying attention to his figures. But I shouldn't have worried. He's raptly watching Michael and Andrea as well. We're a spellbound audience of two.

"We'd have captured the target."

"No. The window was too narrow."

 _Well, well, well. Call me a bitch, but I don't like her._ I shake my head, wondering at my almost violent reaction to Andrea. Watching them argue, I can literally see the sparks flying between them.

 _Sparks flying._ My mind latches stubbornly onto that one thought as I watch Michael and Andrea glare at each other. It slaps me in the face then, the realization of why my chest suddenly feels tight, why my stomach is flip-flopping.

I felt it, that _zing_ in the air when she and Michael stared at each other. I have never seen him like this with anyone. I look down at Birkoff's computer quickly, trying to distract myself from my next thought. _Wrong...he's been like this with me._ Why is she getting to him so much?

Andrea's insistent voice breaks into my confused thoughts. "The window was wide enough for two units to make an entry."

 _I don't think I want to watch this any more._ I'm just opening my mouth to ask Birkoff if we could do this later when Operations returns and swiftly takes in the little scene before him. Given that the village idiot would pick up on the tension in the room, it only takes one look at the arguing couple to realize that nothing has been worked out.

"Hasn't this been resolved yet?" I do feel a bit sorry for Michael, but I can't help but feel glad that for once I'm not the one being yelled at by Operations.

I can almost see Michael gritting his teeth from here. "Not yet."

Operations looks at Michael then at Andrea, displeasure creasing his brow. "Deal with it later. Right now, we need a new mission design."

Michael turns his back on Andrea and stares at Operations.

"I want a different Profiler. ... She doesn't have any field experience. Her designs are too theoretical."

I've never seen Michael dismiss someone so quickly, so thoroughly. Almost as though it was personal. He's being so antagonistic towards Andrea and he's only just met her. It's not like him to be so rude to a woman.

 _Well, I don't like her but she's got guts,_ I think as I watch Andrea stare down both Operations and Michael at the same time.

"My designs are correct."

~*~

Operations looks first at Andrea then at me, his pale eyes glittering as he realizes that Andrea herself has just handed us the perfect opportunity to see how she reacts under fire.

He almost seems to be musing to himself. "Field experience might be useful."

As though he has come to a snap decision, he turns to me. "Michael, she's on your team for the next mission. Make the necessary arrangements."

Andrea is easy to read. Supremely confident in her own abilities with a well-defined sense of self-worth. It should be easy enough to provoke her into wanting to prove herself.

"We can't protect her out there."

It _is_ easy. Andrea immediately takes up my unspoken challenge. "I can take care of myself. "

She's got courage, I'll give her that. And a strong belief in herself. Good. She'll need it by the time Section has finished with her. I wince to myself. _By the time I have finished with her._

I let my gaze drift over to Andrea once more, an intense look that she holds for only a few seconds before she looks away. Operations gives us both a hard stare before turning on his heel and walking away. I watch him as he leaves. His part in this profile is over for the moment.

Mine is just beginning.

~*~

Operations' face is bathed in the pale green light of the holographic screen. "Six weeks ago these genetic codes were stolen from a lab in Zurich. These codes could be used to manufacture designer viruses."

I study the screen, trying to make sense of the complicated intel. _Great. Another psycho with a world domination complex._ Andrea's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Designer viruses?" Well, I'm glad _someone_ asked. I just didn't want it to have to be me, as usual.

"Plagues genetically programmed to attack specific ethnic groups."

Operations flicks a button on his remote and the screen is suddenly filled with the face of our target. He looks more like a bank manager than a crazed terrorist, but hey...you can't judge the psycho by his cover any more.

"This is Hans Korda. A geneticist connected with the group who stole these codes. The aborted _mission,_ " he pauses for effect, "not only failed to capture him, it exposed our intentions."

I glance at Michael just in time to see him looking at Andrea, an intense stare that she is returning. Suddenly uncomfortable, I look away.

"You leave in two hours." Operations turns to speak directly to Andrea and Michael and I linger in the background. I don't know why. I watch as Operations leans forward, the reprimand in his voice more than clear. "No mistakes this time." Operations glares at them. "In design or execution." His face hardens. "Bring...back... Korda."

He stalks off and Andrea and Michael slowly get to their feet in silence, still exchanging those intense glances. Feeling strangely ill at ease in their presence, I turn and walk away.

~*~*~*~*~

"What's up, Sugar?"

I glance up at Walter, then down at the backpack that I've just slammed down onto his workbench.

I smile at him in apology. "Sorry. Bit of a bad day."

Walter gives me an inquisitive look. "Don't tell me. Michael?"

"Isn't it always?" We smile at each other, knowing that I'm only joking. _Well, almost joking._ "It's nothing. It's everything." I flash Walter a sheepish grin. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I hear he got off on the wrong foot with the new profiler."

"News travels fast around here." I reply sourly.

Walter sidles up a bit closer to me, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "She's a pretty lady...but a bit icy, you know what I'm saying?"

 _Oh yeah...I know exactly what you're saying._

He hands me my comm. equipment, talking all the while. "She's okay, I guess...but she doesn't like to talk about anything that's not about Section. One hundred percent business, all the way." He gives me a mock leer. "Not like you, Sugar."

I look down, watching my fingers trace an invisible pattern on the top of Walter's workstation. "Have you talked to her?"

Walter starts to walk towards the ammunition storage area but turns around at my question. "Earlier, when she filed her weapon requisition form."

"She's never been out in the field before. What if something happens to her out there? Tracking down Korda when he knows we're after him is going to be hard enough without having to baby-sit some..."

Walter's eyes widen slightly as he looks over my shoulder and he clears his throat, suddenly very interested in a GPS unit lying on top of his workbench. I swallow the words I was about to say and turn my head slowly, somehow already knowing who is standing there.

Andrea's stare travels slowly from Walter to me, the only indication that she's overhead my tirade is a spot of colour high on each cheekbone. Walter mumbles something about getting our weapons and disappears into the depths of his storage shelves. I watch him enviously, wishing I could drop through a hole in the ground.

I wrack my brain for something to say that might dispel the sudden air of awkward tension in the room, but I'm drawing a blank. I settle for what could be taken as an apologetic smile and hand Andrea her comm. equipment.

Unsmiling, she takes the two digital patches from my hand and turns her back to me. _Fine. Be like that._ I shake my head at my own thoughts, annoyed that I seem to be reverting to sulky teenage mode whenever this woman is around. I'm not usually like this with other females.

Twisting my body slightly, I reach one hand around to stick the body patch to the correct spot on my back, just under the shoulder blade. I smile slightly as I finish up, thinking of how Walter likes to pretend that I can't quite manage to do this by myself, that I always need a helping pair of hands. _He never misses an opportunity._

I glance across at Andrea, and realize that Walter is missing an opportunity now. Andrea is trying to put the body patch on her back, but she can't quite get the hang of it. I hesitate. I'm not quite sure she will want any help from me. But...as far as I can tell, the only other pair of hands is still hiding out in his weapons storage shelves.

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to Andrea and take the patch out of her hand. Our eyes meet, but there's no animosity in her dark stare, only indifference. I move behind her and fix the patch in the right place. Just as I'm finishing Walter strolls back in, as though he was just waiting for the right moment. I resist the urge to give him the evil eye and turn my attention back to Andrea, making sure that the patch is secure. As I move away she looks up at me again.

"Thank you."

I give her a small 'think nothing of it' smile, trying not to think of the harsh words she must have heard me saying to Walter. I look up quickly as Walter puts Andrea's choice of gun on the bench in front of her, grateful for the distraction. He frowns as he looks at her and seems to hesitate, as though he's not sure how to put what he wants to say.

"Most field ops prefer to use a lighter weapon."

Andrea only smiles briefly at him and starts to examine her gun, checking the chamber and testing its fit in the holster strapped to her thigh.

"I trained with this." It's clear that she isn't going to consider Walter's opinion, but he gives it one more try.

"Shooting at people isn't the same as shooting at holograms.

Andrea stares at Walter coolly. "Why is that?"

Walter hesitates. I think Andrea's snooty manner towards him has caught him off guard. He's not used to pretty ladies speaking to him this way. I try to bite my tongue but I can't.

"Umm, people shoot back?" God, I sound like such a bitch, but I can't help it. There's something about this woman that is bringing out the worst in me.

"Not if they're dead." She flips me a calm look before walking off.

 _Ouch._ I look at Walter, who only rolls his eyes at me.

"I guess she told us, Sugar." We both turn and watch Andrea as she walks away

~*~

I stretch my legs out in front of me and mentally review the last four hours. The mission went smoothly and without incident. The underlying tension during the entire operation is another matter. Adjusting to a new operative on the team can be difficult, but team members can usually sort out any differences given enough time. But as I sit in the transport on the return journey to Section, watching Nikita watch Andrea, I am reminded that some differences can never be 'worked out', no matter how long you wait.

I don't flatter myself that I can read Nikita perfectly, but I _do_ know how to read her eyes. She doesn't like Andrea and she doesn't like the fact that Andrea is on our team. I also know Nikita well enough to realize that she is uncomfortable about the way that she is feeling. Nikita _likes_ to like people and she usually bonds quickly with other female operatives.

Andrea seems oblivious of Nikita's barely concealed animosity towards her. To be brutally honest given Andrea's psyche profile, if she did notice, she wouldn't care. Nikita's thoughts or emotions would be of no interest whatsoever.

I don't think that Nikita quite knows why she dislikes Andrea, but I don't think that I'm about to help matters.

Finally, we arrive back at Section. I let Andrea proceed me into van access, leaving Nikita to bring Korda through on her own. Although I am trying to detain Andrea long enough to invite her to dinner, I can't quite relax until Nikita has brought Korda into the relative security of van access. Leaving her to deal with the hostile alone, even though he is heavily restrained, is not something I am in the habit of doing.

Andrea walks quickly through van access and I know I need to make a connection with her now before she leaves Section for the evening.

"Good work."

"It was a simple enough mission." She tries to brush my remark aside, but she is quietly pleased at the compliment.

"First time under fire is never simple." The irony of my words is not lost on me. According to her psyche profile, Andrea has never had to shoot another human being. And yet she has just killed two men with a calm and deadly accuracy that most field operatives take years to display.

I turn around just as Briggs and Gibson arrive, intent on taking Korda off our hands. Nikita is standing just outside the van access door still gripping the captive's arm tightly. She looks at me, waiting.

"Prepare him for interrogation." I let my gaze sweep vaguely over them all, careful not to meet Nikita's eyes. I'm too distracted by her presence as it is. I don't particularly want to see her reaction to what I'm about to say to Andrea.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Nikita nod to me as she surrenders Korda to the other operatives' keeping. To my consternation, she doesn't move away with them, but stays where she is, obviously waiting for me to join her.

 _Damn._ I swear softly to myself. I didn't want to have to do this in front of Nikita but I have no choice. _I don't want to hurt her._ I catch myself. _Why do I automatically assume that this will hurt her?_ She cares deeply for me, that much I know. Her actions after the Perez mission only served to reinforce my belief that she can no more suppress her feelings for me than I can deny mine for her.

With these unsettling thoughts whirling through my mind, I turn my back on Nikita, forcing myself to ignore the look of confusion that clouds her face. Walking away from her, I reluctantly accept the disturbing reality. I am going to have to block Nikita out of my thoughts completely in order to make this seduction of Andrea convincing.

Having Nikita for an audience isn't going to help, not when I'm already feeling so ambivalent about this particular valentine mission. As yet, the allegations against Andrea are still unproven. If Operations is mistaken and she is innocent...

Three long strides are enough to bring me close enough to Andrea for her to hear my question.

"Would you like to join me for dinner?"

Andrea stops, but doesn't turn around. Her reply is quietly uncompromising. "Mmm. No, thank you." Almost as an afterthought, she continues. "I don't go out much."

Standing beside her I notice again how tiny she is. She is wearing high-heeled boots and she still only reaches my shoulder. I try again, unhappily aware of Nikita's stare almost scorching the skin on the back of my neck.

"With anyone?" I take a half step closer to her and she turns her head slightly towards me. "Or only operatives?"

"With anyone." She tilts her head back finally to look me in the eye. " _Especially_ Section operatives." Given her relationship with Joseph Lee and its disastrous consequences, her emphatic statement is hardly a surprise.

Recognising the need to erase any lingering resentment that she might be feeling towards me, I make my tone soft and apologetic. "We got off on the wrong foot. It was partly my fault." _A slight understatement._ I let my eyes travel over her face, studying her reaction to my words. "I'd like to make amends."

Wariness still flashes at the back of her eyes, but her face softens slightly. "It was nobody's fault." It's obviously a reluctant admission on her part, but an admission nevertheless. "No amends necessary."

I speak softly, wanting to create an air of intimacy between Andrea and myself and also to keep Nikita from hearing our conversation. "No amends then. Just pleasure."

Andrea's mouth tightens somewhat at my audacity and she starts to walk away "Forget dinner, Michael. It's not going to happen."

"Okay." I nod slightly, appearing to accept her refusal graciously, but move quickly around to her other side, effectively blocking her path. Operations' words to me earlier this morning are ringing in my ears.

 _"Do it now, Michael. Oversight are pushing me on this one. They want the matter cleared up in seventy-two hours."_

"How about a cup of coffee? I'd like to know you better." The words give me pause. According to her profile, Andrea has never been on a live mission, never had to take a life. And yet she has just killed two men without blinking. I'm not sure that I want to get to know Andrea any better, but that decision is not mine to make.

Andrea sighs as she realizes that I am not going to take "no" for an answer. She looks at me and I study her face, intrigued despite myself by the inner struggle I can see in her eyes. After a short silence, she nods quickly. I touch her elbow lightly with my hand and we start to walk towards the ground level exit. I have no concerns about missing the debrief. Operations is not expecting either of us.

~*~

 _Would you like to join me for dinner?_ Such a simple little sentence, eight little words. So why am I standing here feeling as though I've just had the wind knocked out of me?

Korda is long gone, having been escorted to containment by Briggs and Gibson. I stand alone in the corridor watching Michael and Andrea walk away, a dull ache of regret in my stomach as I watch Michael talk to her animatedly. Animated? Michael?

I have never seen him talk like this with anyone. I swallow hard, my mouth and throat suddenly dry as an insidious little voice taunts me. _He's never been like that with you._

I narrow my eyes at them as they walk away, the thought lingering in my mind. _He's never been like this with anyone._ Even what Michael was saying to Andrea, his words...he was like a totally different person. _And he did it right in front of you._ I raise my eyebrows at Michael and Andrea's receding backs, my lip curling in my best Billy Idol sneer. _Whatever._

~*~

 

I frown and burrow deeper into the bedclothes but I can still hear the ringing of the phone, even with the pillow over my head. Muttering several unmentionable words under my breath, I pull the pillow off and reluctantly open my eyes.

Snaking out an arm from underneath the covers, I fumble for the receiver, grateful at least that I put it on my bedside table last night.

"Yep?" I don't bother being polite at four o'clock in the morning any more.

An unfamiliar voice intones the very familiar greeting. "Josephine."

 _No Michael._ I let out my breath in a frustrated hiss and hang up, not bothering to say anything. Not wanting to think about why Michael didn't call me in, I throw back the covers and stomp into the bathroom. This is not a good start to the day, and I have an achy sinking feeling that it's not going to get any better.

I strip off the long t-shirt that I slept in and throw it onto the bathroom floor. Climbing into the shower, I slam the shower screen shut irritably, wincing at its loud clank of protest. I think I'm getting a headache, and I'm pretty sure I know why.

 _What a pity I don't work somewhere that lets a girl call in sick._

~*~

Birkoff is already at his workstation when I arrive at Comm via the long way, having studiously avoided walking past Michael's office. Relieved to see a friendly face, I stroll over to his desk.

"Morning Birkoff."

He's staring at his monitor with unusual intensity, but manages to flip me a reply. "Hi."

"You're here early." I plonk myself down on the top of his desk, ignoring the pained expression that flits across his face.

"The Bahrain situation is heating up." He rummages though several piles of god-knows-what on his desk. "Your mission is too."

 _Just as well._ Nothing I like more than getting up at four o'clock in the morning just to come in to Section and do nothing. Thinking of last night's mission, a question pops into my head.

"Did Madeline interrogate Korda?"

"She's doing it now. He won't put up much of a fight. Most of these scientists are pretty lame."

He finally tears himself away from what he's working on and gives me a cheeky grin.

"I'm an exception."

I return his smile, very happy to see that not everyone has turned into a pod person while my back was turned. I see a blur of bright red hair out of the corner of my eye and turn my head. _Speaking of which..._

"Have you seen Michael this morning? "

Birkoff looks back down at his computer and suddenly seems very busy. "Yeah, he came in."

There's an awkward pause. He doesn't volunteer any other information, and I don't really want to ask, but...

"Alone?"

I hate myself. I can't believe I'm asking Birkoff, of all people, if he knows whether Michael got lucky last night.

Birkoff just keeps working, but I can see a deep flush of colour travelling up his neck.

"I didn't really notice. "

I drop the subject. I'm only making myself crazy, thinking about Michael and Andrea. As though he can hear my thoughts, Birkoff suddenly looks up at me and brings the subject right back up again.

"What do you think of the new profiler?"

"Andrea?" _The truth? I want to scratch her eyes out._ I look at Birkoff. I don't think he's up to hearing that little tidbit right now.

"I don't know." I push down the hard little knot of jealousy in my chest, trying to stay objective. It's a lot harder to do than I thought it would be. "A little arrogant, maybe."

"Yeah. Profilers think they know it all." He sighs. "Sometimes they do."

"Does she?"

"Too early to tell. She just transferred in from the Asian Sector."

I try to act as though I couldn't care less. "What's her reputation?"

"Asia thinks she walks on water. Totally dedicated to Section."

"The perfect operative." I say flatly.

"That's what they say. Nothing gets to her. Nothing and nobody."

It hits me then, like a slap in the face. She sounds just like Michael...a perfect match. Not wanting Birkoff to see the agitation that I just know is plastered all over my face, I hop off his desk and give him a quick nod. I start to walk away, but then swivel around as an idea occurs to me.

"When do you need me?"

He looks up, distracted. "In about an hour."

 _Good._ If I hurry, I can get in at least forty-five minutes of throwing people a lot bigger than me over my shoulder, which should work wonders for my mood. I turn on my heel and head for the dojo.

~*~

Shutting down my computer, I sit and stare at the dark screen for a moment before rubbing my tired eyes. Operating on four hours sleep a night never used to be a problem, but my inner clock seems to have been disrupted this month by a combination of Adam starting to sleepwalk, early morning briefings and late night seductions.

 _Seductions?_ I grimace to myself as I think of how little progress I seemed to make with Andrea last night. We went to a new coffee shop three blocks from Section. At first, Andrea suggested an espresso bar closer to Section, but I demurred. The only person I had ever been there with was Nikita and I suddenly felt as though I would be betraying her in some small way if I took Andrea there. Impatient with myself for such inappropriate thoughts, I suggested the other. After an hour or so of caffeine and polite chatter, Andrea had become more open, softer somehow. I hedged my bets and repeated my dinner invitation. She looked at me for a long moment before giving me a resigned smile of acceptance.

We left the coffee shop and caught a taxi to a Thai restaurant along the river. I let her direct the conversation along the lines she was comfortable. As a result, we spoke of various missions that were coming up and I heard a great deal about her time in Bejing. When she asked about my life before Section, I smiled and gave her the usual tale, an edited life story that bears very little resemblance to the truth. I was strangely relieved that she didn't mention Section Two or Nikita but found it odd at the same time.

Andrea refused both dessert and more coffee, saying that she needed to be in Section very early the next morning. I acquiesced immediately, not trying to persuade her otherwise. She seemed slightly surprised, but hid her reaction very well. I walked her to a taxi, kissing her lightly on both cheeks before opening the door for her. She pulled her coat tighter around her body as she gave me an appraising look. Good night Michael, was all she said.

Standing now at the window of my office, I gaze out into Section, thinking of the next step. I know that Andrea has arrived in Section. I sigh softly. So has Nikita, for that matter. Both women seem to be avoiding me. _Hardly a satisfactory result for a Valentine Op._

I leave the office and make my way towards Comm, unable to stop my eyes from searching for Nikita's distinctive flash of blonde hair. Satisfied that she is nowhere to be seen, I go straight to Andrea's desk.

"Good morning."

She doesn't look up.

"Hi."

It appears that we are back to square one again. _Merde._ Recognising my own emotional defenses in this woman, I stroll around the front of her desk, making it harder for her to pretend that I'm not here.

"I had a great time last night."

Andrea keeps punching in figures on her keyboard and replies without looking up.

"You talked me into coffee, then you managed to talk me into dinner." There is an air of grudging acceptance in her voice, but then it hardens slightly. "But that's as far as it goes."

"Why?"

She finally raises her head and looks at me.

"Because I like it here."

Almost as if her statement embarrasses her, she drops her gaze back down to the monitor.

"Most people hate Section, or pretend to." She keys in more figures, frowning at the monitor briefly. "But I like it."

Hoping I won't choke on my own words, I hasten to agree with her. "So do I." I press on, lowering my voice slightly. "It doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves."

Andrea looks at me again, the seductive overtones of my words finally filtering through a mind totally focused on its work.

"Section isn't exactly about enjoyment. The cyberware, the weapons, the missions. Those are real." She flicks her gaze up at me. "Everything else is an illusion. People who forget that don't last long."

Despite my dislike of this situation, I can't help feeling a grudging admiration for her. Her view of Section is not unlike my own used to be before...I try to clamp down on the direction that my thoughts are taking but it's too late. _Before Nikita came to Section._

"Everything is as real as we make it. No more, no less. It's up to us."

The echoes of the past continue to ring in my head, the memory of another woman who believed my lies taunt me, making my words to Andrea seem even more hollow than they already feel.

 _Let's not fight what's between us...let's take what we can get._

I force my mind back to Andrea, feeling almost persecuted. _Damn you, Nikita. Must you infiltrate every thought in my head, every feeling in my heart?_

An unexpected surge of unfocused anger shoots through me and I have to force myself to concentrate on the woman in front of me. But resentment simmers dangerously and the sudden urge to finish this conversation wins out over Section duty.

"If you change your mind, let me know."

I wait until I see the almost reluctant flicker of interest dance across Andrea's face and then quickly walk away. Mentally rearranging my schedule, I make my way to the dojo. I have the sudden need to hit something very hard.

~*~

There is no privacy in this place, I fume as I lean against the tiled wall in the shower stall. First I almost slam headlong into Michael when I was finishing up at the dojo and now this. I thought I had the place to myself, but the chattering of female voices has now invaded my thoughts. My skin prickles cold then hot again as I recognize the voices. _Wouldn't you just know it?_

"So...Andrea." It's Delia, a Level Two cold op that I just can't stand, for two very different reasons. She almost always manages to accidentally kill a couple of innocents on every mission, and she has a very annoying habit of flirting with Michael. "I hear you had a date with the Ice King last night?"

There is a slight silence before I hear Andrea's reply. "We went for coffee. It was not a date."

The other woman laughs.

"Well, that's probably just well."

"What do you mean?" For all her insistence that it was not a date, Andrea certainly seems put out by Delia's remark.

"You haven't been here long, have you?" Delia sighs dramatically. "Have you met Nikita yet? Tall? Blonde? Looks like a supermodel, only with brains?"

"I've met her. What about her?" She couldn't sound less interested in me if she tried.

"She and Michael...." Delia trails off, baiting Andrea rather obviously.

She doesn't have to wait very long for Andrea to "bite".

"What _about_ her and Michael?" Andrea sounds more than a little annoyed and I can't help smiling. _Take that, Miss Perfect Operative._

Delia is only too happy to fill her in. "She and Michael have a...history, shall we say? The story is that there's been something going on between them ever since she came to Section."

There's a short silence, broken only by the sound of running water in the hand basins. I stand perfectly still beneath the stream of warm water, almost holding my breath as I wait for Andrea's reply. The realization that Michael and I are such a hot topic of conversation almost overshadows the thought that Michael took Andrea out on a date.

"Are they together now?" Andrea's voice is so calm, so emotionless. If I were Andrea, I'd be pretty ticked off at this little titbit of gossip. Maybe she doesn't give two hoots about Michael after all.

"Well...I couldn't say." Delia sounds quite put out that she doesn't know. "Things seem to have been slightly tense between them lately, but I still wouldn't want to get caught in between the two of them when they're looking at each other. Third degree burns, you know what I mean?"

I have to swallow a snort of outrage at this. _Third degree burns, my ass!_ The way he looked at me when I literally ran into him near the dojo was cool enough to freeze a polar bear's behind.

The tap at the hand basin is turned off abruptly.

"Thank you for the advice, but as I told you...it wasn't really a date." Andrea sounds so casual. I almost believe her until her next words totally ruin the effect. "But as far as I can see, there's nothing between them. He practically ignores her."

"We-eell..." Delia sounds reluctant to relinquish her control over the conversation. "I guess so. I haven't seen him really talk to her since you arrived in Section."

 _My thoughts exactly._ I press my hot forehead against the cool tiles of the shower stall as if to cool my fevered thoughts. It doesn't work.

~*~

Neither Madeline nor Operations are at the final briefing for the Korda mission and I can't say I'm not relieved. I don't seem to have much of a poker face today and I just can't look at Andrea and Michael without scowling. I definitely don't need an audience for my bad mood.

When I walk into the room, Birkoff is already at the computer, flicking different images up onto the holograph screen. I'm the last one to arrive, but my tardiness doesn't even rate the usual glance of annoyance from Michael. I sigh silently. _Ignored again._

I walk over to them and reluctantly stand next to Andrea in order to see the screen properly.

Birkoff looks up at us. "Korda didn't know the location of the lab, but he said Glasser calls it twice a day from a secure phone in his office."

A new image flickers up onto the screen, a floor plan of the building we will be paying a courtesy call to this evening. Birkoff keeps talking, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of us.

"He's hosting a charity fund raiser tonight. Two hundred guests, security should be focused on the main floor. That should give us an opening."

Andrea almost saunters to Michael's side. _How cosy._ I look away, feigning great interest in the floor plan, wishing I could afford to ignore her.

Unfortunately, I have to keep paying attention. "Team One will secure the perimeter." I feel, rather than see, Andrea direct her next words to me. "You, Michael and I will work the inside."

I've been staring at the holograph, mainly to memorize it but also to give me something else to look at than Michael and Andrea standing together at the head of the briefing table. Andrea's words snap me back to the unwanted reality that is my life.

Andrea, Michael and me. _Even cosier._ "What's the configuration?" I have the feeling that the answer is not going to make me happy.

It doesn't.

Michael answers. "I'll work with Andrea." He doesn't meet my eyes. "You'll work solo."

I look at him in surprise before I can stop myself. I almost feel as though I've just been put in my place. Puzzled, I quickly search his face, hoping for some clue as to his behaviour.

Nothing. He seems to be deliberately ignoring me...again. Without being smug, that's pretty strange in itself.

I just nod at him and look away, but my mind is racing. _Why is he working with Andrea, a woman he hardly knows, instead of me?_ Despite the problems between us, we work well together. As Michael himself once told me, we are convincing as two people in love. We can't afford to make any mistakes on this mission. What _is_ going on? It's not like Michael to jeopardize a mission for the sake of an attraction.

"Get ready. We leave in an hour." He still won't look at me. I bite back the smart remark that I'm very tempted to make as I watch him leave with Andrea, but it doesn't stop me thinking it. _Off to help your date pick out something to wear, are we?_

I sigh and head for Munitions. This is just _great._

~*~

The party has hit its peak by the time we arrive and it is easy to blend into the dozens of people hovering in the main entrance hallway. I glance quickly at the two women beside me. Andrea is surveying the crowd. Nikita is studiously ignoring both of us. I study her unobtrusively. She looks beautiful, her clothes an exotic mix of elegance and 'arty'. The profile requires Nikita to enter the premises first in order to enable Birkoff to scan the surroundings. As I watch her, Nikita touches a finger to her tinted glasses, starting the live video feed to Comm.

She throws me one last unfathomable glance and disappears into the crowd of fashionably dressed guests. I watch her walk away, suddenly wishing that it had been possible to change the mission configuration, or that I could have found a reason to pull Nikita from the team for this mission.

Sighing inwardly, I tear my eyes away from her receding figure and face the frightening truth. I'm no longer comfortable playing the part of a valentine op. It's not as though I ever enjoyed it, but it seems to be a lot more difficult that it used to be. And I know why. _Nikita._ The longer we go on circling each other, becoming entwined in each other's lives, in each other's hearts, the less capable I feel convincing another woman that I want her.

 _It's not Nikita's fault,_ I think grimly. It's mine. I set her free, only to bring her back into hell the first chance I had. I lived those six months without her in a numb uncaring daze, torn between being afraid to believe that she was dead, and being unable to accept that she was still alive and I couldn't reach her, touch her. Then came the disastrous mission in Lyons and a well-timed bullet that saved my life. I saw her and my world tilted on its axis, my heart wrenched into life at the sight of her. All thoughts of Elena, Adam and the Section dissolving in the face of a desire so intense that I felt I would wither and die if I didn't touch her, make love to her.

The few hours that we had together are scorched into my heart, my body. Ten months later, a certain smile or gesture from her still has the power to bring the memory of that night rushing back, flooding my body with a scalding longing for her, a longing that I am growing very weary of fighting. The weeklong mission to take down Joaquin Armel only served to rekindle that yearning, a few hours of temporary gratification that only made having to be without her afterwards more painful.

When I force myself to be brutally honest, I can admit that I was overwhelmed by the realisation that I loved this woman more than my own life. Consumed by my feelings for her, I felt as though I could no longer trust my own judgment to keep us safe. The bond that we had forged threatened more than just the two of us. If the Vachek mission had been compromised, Adam and Elena would have been considered acceptable collateral and there was no way I could tell Nikita the real reasons for my emotional withdrawal.

So I pushed Nikita away, wordlessly telling her to go. After a while, she did. And I hated it. And so the pattern began. She would drift away from me and I would draw her back with a word or a touch. I would see the hope spark in the depths of her eyes and hate myself more and more every time. I could no more be without her than I could be with her.

I stare after her, watching her bright head disappear slowly into the teeming crowd at the entrance. Asking me to play this role in front of Nikita was an inspired thought on Madeline's part. She, more than anyone else, understands how the lies, the touching, the art of seduction works in Section. She knows only too well the effect that this scenario will have on Nikita. _Damn her._

All the way here, I could feel Nikita watching me, and then studying Andrea. She doesn't quite know what is going on, but I know that she suspects something. Either way, her opinion of me is about to plummet about as low as it can go.

I turn to Andrea and take her hand. We walk slowly towards the heart of the party, a central room with a dance floor. I sense a change in Andrea's attitude since our discussion this morning. It seems that backing off only served to pique her interest. I make a mental note never to second-guess Madeline's instructions when it comes to Valentine missions.

 _"You need to make a strong impression with Andrea and it doesn't necessarily have to be a favourable one. She is the type of operative who is fiercely proud of her work and will not stand for her abilities being called into question."  
_

Madeline looked at me then, watching for my reaction. When I gave her none, she continued mildly. "But once you have made that impression, you will have gotten past her defenses. You will then need to...smooth things over. If you apologise for any misunderstandings, her pride will be salvaged. If you make a romantic overture towards her at this point, she will be intrigued enough to accept. Any attempt on her part to appear uninterested after that first contact will be a token one, a last effort to reassure herself that she is in control of her emotions."

Madeline stood and walked towards me, coming to stand right in front of me, her eyes filled with a dark knowledge that I chose to ignore. "She won't be, of course. You'll see to that, I'm sure."

My only reaction to Madeline's instructions was to nod abruptly and leave her office. But she was right. Andrea's hand is cool in mine, but not entirely steady. I rub my thumb lightly over the inside of her wrist a few times, feeling the pulse leap into sudden life at the contact with detached satisfaction.

We walk into the main room and I lead Andrea slowly through the dancing couples, nodding to the operative on point as we make eye contact. The music is slow. Andrea turns and puts her arms around my neck, holding her eyes with mine. I slide my arms around her small frame, tilting my head towards hers. We're not really dancing, our feet hardly moving as we sway together in time to the slow beat.

I half close my eyes as I gaze down at Andrea, trying to clamp down on my distracting awareness of Nikita's presence in the room. Birkoff's voice in my comm. unit confirms the reason for my discomfort.

"Nikita, twenty degrees to the left."

I keep my eyes on Andrea, disturbingly aware of the fact that she no longer wants to keep me at arms length. She moves closer than the mission profile requires, brushing her hips against mine subtly. She is attractive and she has decided that she wants me, and I will my body to respond convincingly. I slide my hands down her back, knowing that I must convince her that the attraction is mutual, not wanting her, wanting Nikita, my body and mind at war.

"Use the South Entrance...as soon as the guard moves away, you go." I listen to Birkoff's instructions to Nikita, hoping to gauge her position from his words.

I haven't heard Nikita speak once, only Birkoff guiding her. "Shouldn't be long."

I break into their one-sided conversation. "Okay, Birkoff. We're in position."

Andrea's heartbeat is steady against my chest. She feels so small in my arms, so unlike...I catch myself, trying not to let myself remember but I can't stop the images from flooding my mind, my body.

The last woman I danced with was Nikita, nearly four months ago. She doesn't know that I remember it. I lied to her. She risked her own life to cover up the fact that chemical torture had affected my memory, wiping my mind clean. It was only for three days but the memory of those hours with Nikita is seared into my heart. Unburdened by guilt and past sins I could remember nothing about my life apart from the fact that I loved this woman desperately. I close my eyes and try not to think about how it felt to hold Nikita in my arms, to feel her heart fluttering urgently beneath her skin as I pulled her close to me. The way she pushed me away when I tried to kiss her still haunts me.

I can feel the heat of Nikita's stare now. The tingling in my body has nothing to do with the woman I'm holding in my arms, although holding Andrea is much like holding Elena. So small and delicate, almost as though they are taking shelter in my embrace.

Not Nikita. Dancing with her is an erotic experience, almost a prelude to making love, so lush is the feel of her body pressed against mine, swaying sensually in time with the music.

For a long time, I could not work out why just standing next to her in Section could send sensual shockwaves through my body, until one day about eight months after she was recruited. We were walking quickly through the hallway to Munitions and I stopped abruptly, making Nikita almost run into me. As I turned to apologise to her, I realised belatedly that we were nearly the same height, something that life with Simone and Elena had not prepared me for. As I started to speak, I turned my head, only to find that we were standing literally face to face, hip to hip, her mouth only a whisper away from my own. I had to swallow hard and push several distractingly erotic impulses out of my mind. Muttering a vague apology, I literally stalked off to Munitions, more than a little disturbed by the effect that this recruit was having on me.

Now, I let my hands roam over Andrea's willing body as I look into her eyes, my mind a million miles and three years away.

"Nikita, the sequence is under way." Birkoff's voice suddenly flares to life in my comm. unit again.

There is a slight pause, and I have stop myself from looking for Nikita. I know she's watching. I can feel her eyes.

Nikita's voice is flatly abrupt in my ear. "Got it."

~*~

I can't help myself. I can't take my eyes off them. Jealousy coils hotly in the pit of my stomach, making me almost feel like I want to throw up. _What is going on here?_ Andrea looks amazing in that black dress, stunningly petite. I feel like a six foot tall Pippy Longstocking compared to her, an unattractive frump. No wonder Michael is attracted to her. _You don't know that._ I swallow hard as I watch them dance, their eyes locked in a heated stare. _Who am I kidding? Look at them!_

It's like a road accident...I know I shouldn't look and yet I feel powerless to look away. Frustrated longing seizes my heart as I watch Michael slide his hand down Andrea's bare arm in a sensual caress, trailing his fingertips lingeringly over her bare skin. I swallow hard, jealousy and disbelief churning in my stomach as I watch them staring at each other intently. They look perfect together.

"Nikita, where are we?"

Birkoff's voice in my ear jolts me back to reality, making me realize that I'm just standing here on the stairs like an idiot. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Angry with myself, I pull my attention away from the dance floor and look up towards the door. The guard is gone.

"I'm going through."

At this point, I don't really care if the guard is lying in wait for me. Anything would be preferable to watching those two try to outstare each other.

~*~

Nikita has finally gone up the stairs. She hesitated so long that I was almost tempted to break position to check her status, but I held back, not wanting to bring any more attention to her lapse in concentration. Guilt pricks the back of my neck. I know very well what is distracting her.

I gaze down at Andrea, my mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. As distasteful as I find the entrapment style of this particular valentine assignment, I can't deny that this woman has begun to intrigue me. She withholds so much emotion, channeling any passion in her soul into her work for Section.

After watching her taxi disappear into the traffic last night, I returned to Section and spent several hours studying her previous work. Her profiles are quite unique, almost flawless in their design and execution, a fact made even more remarkable by the fact that she had not been on a live mission until yesterday.

I find it incredible to think that this woman, so dedicated to Section, so painfully proud of her work could be possessed of a mind so volatile that she is willing to take the lives of her fellow operatives for no reason other than bitter retribution. Section Two still hasn't been able to confirm her involvement. My stomach is churning with suppressed trepidation. _Am I about to emotionally destroy an innocent woman on the strength of an unsubstantiated report?_

Andrea's arms tighten slightly around my neck, bringing my face down closer to hers. Her eyes locked on mine, she sways closer, bringing her body flush against me. I run my hands down her bare back, putting a hand on the small of her back to press her hips against mine. The breath catches in her throat at the contact and she leans into me, her breasts brushing lightly against my chest.

I close my eyes and let my body take control, finally letting the tangle of heated memories of another woman flood my mind. A hundred erotic images flicker behind my eyelids as I inhale the heady scent of Andrea's perfume and feel the heat of her body seeping through my clothes, warming my skin. Despite my inner conflict, my body tightens in response to the combined sensual arousal of mind and body. But, the desire flowing hotly through my blood feels wrong, a betrayal of both the woman in my arms and the woman in my thoughts.

Surely the sequence must be nearly complete. "Birkoff." I flinch inwardly at the obvious note of urgency in my voice. "How long?"

"Twenty seconds."

 _Twenty seconds._ It feels like an eternity.

 _What is taking her so long?_

Birkoff's next words have the disturbing effect of a stay of execution. "We're clear."

~*~

The tension in the van on the return trip to Section is almost palpable.

I feel Nikita's eyes on me before her gaze slowly moves to take in Andrea, sitting next to me. I deliberately sat next to Andrea when we entered the vehicle, ignoring the empty seat next to Nikita. I watch her face now, marveling at the kaleidoscope of emotion that dances across her face before she realizes that I am looking at her.

Our eyes meet and the look of puzzled hurt in her eyes makes me want to look away. I resist the urge and meet her stare, unblinking. It is Nikita who finally raises a cynical eyebrow, before turning away to speak to Hobson who has come to sit next to her. She starts to chat to him in a more than slightly flirtatious manner and his whole face lights up. _Just one of the many operatives who seem to be head over heels in love with her._ I eye him disdainfully. Nikita has never given him the slightest bit of encouragement before, but she certainly seems to be making up for it now.

Andrea sits close beside me and I can feel the warmth of her body, her perfume still teasing my senses. She lets her thigh brush against me every now and then, just enough for it to be obvious that the contact is not accidental. It seems that post-mission adrenalin is doing most of the work for me.

We sit in silence. I know that I should be concentrating on Andrea. But even as I am letting my arm brush against Andrea's breast as the vehicle takes a sharp corner, all I can think of is the churning jealousy in the pit of my stomach as I watch Hobson put a teasing arm about Nikita's shoulders. She laughs half-heartedly at the joke he is telling her before looking up to find me watching her.

There's not enough time to either look away or disguise my rather intense thoughts. Nikita's smile becomes hesitant as she takes in my unguarded look. She meets my eyes with a challenging stare for a few seconds. Her gaze then moves to Andrea, lingering on the other woman rather pointedly before lifting her eyes to mine once more. A humourless smile curves her generous mouth and I feel my heart flutter in my chest at the empty look in her eyes. And then she is gone, turning away from me to flirt with Hobson again.

This is a dangerous game that Nikita and I are playing. _How much longer can this go on before we both get hurt?_

~*~

Section. _Thank God._ I could not stand another minute in the back of the van with those two. It's bad enough having to watch him make goo-goo eyes at Andrea, but I may as well have stayed in the van for this entire mission for all the attention that Michael paid me. I feel so petty and small, but I can't help my thoughts. In all the times that Michael has been cruel to me, lied to me, seduced me in the name of Section, he has never ignored me. But now he is, and it hurts more than I want to admit. It is as though he can't even see me any more, not when Andrea is around.

I lag behind them as we come through van access, not wanting to have to see any more than I already have. They may as well be strolling arm in arm, they're giving off such a 'couple' vibe. When I could tear my eyes away from Michael, I was watching _her_ face. She wants him. He's broken through that ice maiden routine and I bet he wasn't even trying.

"Nikita." It's Birkoff. "Madeline wants to see you in her office."

 _Well, this day just gets better and better, doesn't it?_ I wonder what I'll be doing next? Going out to cancel half a dozen innocents? I scowl at Birkoff.

"Madeline? Why?"

He shrugs at me, obviously not wanting to know what my scowl is all about. "She didn't say."

I watch Michael walk with Andrea around the corner and out of my sight. _Out of my life._ I shake my head, confused. _Where did that come from?_

I look at the ceiling, blinking back the hot tears that threaten to totally embarrass me in front of Birkoff, then make my way reluctantly towards Madeline's office.

~*~

I bite back a weary sigh and look at Madeline. I don't know why she asked me to come to her office. Apart from a vague question about how the mission went, all she's done for the last ten minutes is quiz me about Walter, her questions hovering around the subject of Belinda, and Walter's feelings about Operations.

Surely she knows better? Walter's one of my best friends. If he were running around Section saying that he was going to shove Operations' head up his own butt, I wouldn't tell Madeline.

 _I've had just about enough of this day._ A little twinge of sadness somewhere deep inside me reminds me of why I've had such a bad day. _I won't think about him. I won't._

"Is that all?"

I don't bother waiting for a reply. I'm already out of my chair and heading for the door by the time Madeline answers me.

"No. No, it isn't."

I watch Madeline as she brings up something on her screen. _Shit. It's not enough that I had to watch it live, now I get the action replay._ It's the party we have just left. The dance floor, to be precise. Michael and Andrea dancing, to be even more precise. _Oh, zooming in now. Thanks Madeline. Just what I needed to see._ I tear my eyes away from her monitor just as she turns back to me, trying to keep my expression bland.

Madeline's eyes meet mine, speculation gleaming in their depths. "You let your camm view drift, for a full three seconds."

I feel my face flush. "No harm resulted."

"Nevertheless, it was a lapse."

Looking everywhere but at Madeline's computer, I struggle to keep my face from betraying my thoughts.

"I'll be more careful next time."

Madeline swivels her chair around to gaze at her computer screen. "They work well together. They may even be entering into a relationship."

Before I can stop myself, I follow the direction of Madeline's eyes and find myself staring at her monitor.

I never used to be a jealous person. Now, looking at the image of Michael holding Andrea in his arms, totally oblivious to everyone else, I feel sick. A painful sense of dejection seeps through my heart and I struggle to hide my thoughts from Madeline. Blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes, I sniff in what I hope is a convincingly disdained manner.

"I wouldn't know." I shuffle my feet slightly and try to look unconcerned.

Madeline is not going to let me off the hook that easily. "I hope they are. For their sake...and for yours."

I look at her blankly. That doesn't make any sense to me. "For my sake?"

"It's better for Operatives to find relationships that won't affect their work. Your passion for life is very strong, Nikita. It enables you to accomplish things that no one else can." She flicks another quick look at her computer monitor. "It can also destroy you."

I stare at Madeline as her insinuation becomes clear. _Human translation of that little gem of wisdom? It's better for Section operatives to have meaningless sex with that special someone, rather than find someone to love, someone who will love them back._

In other words, love distracts you in a way that meaningless sex can never do.

A slow-burning anger starts to build inside me. It's bad enough that I have to watch Michael pursue Andrea. My days are spent watching him trying to charm the pants off her, my nights spent running from dreams so painfully erotic that I almost blush when I run into Michael the next morning. Now I have to listen to Madeline telling me that the fact that Michael and Andrea may soon start to have a nice little relationship based on sex would be good for me. _How nice._

I can't say what I really want to say, so I say nothing. _If you can't say anything nice..._

I nod my head at her, feeling desperately as though I need some fresh air. " _Now_ are we done?"

Madeline regards me with those dark eyes of hers that can be so warm, lulling you into a false sense of security before turning to pure ice only seconds later. But for the moment, she seems satisfied that she's made her point.

"Yes."

I can't get out of her office fast enough.

~*~

"I though we were going to dinner?"

I slip Andrea's coat from her shoulders and toss it carelessly onto her sofa. "Only if you want to. I was hoping to spend our time somewhere more...private." Andrea insisted on coming to her apartment first so that she could change.

I have no intention of taking her out to dinner again. While Andrea was dropping off her comm. unit on our return to Section, I had a brief but damning conversation with Operations.

 _"The head of Systems at Section Two has completed his analysis of the last mission profiled by Andrea to incur an unexpected fatality. The configuration of the mission profile was altered by Comm after the profile had been set. The updated intel was not relayed to the operative on point, who lost her life as a result."  
_

He looks at me with perturbed eyes. "Erin Wilden, the operative who died, had apparently challenged Karsov the previous day in front of the Operations of Section Two and several operatives, complaining that she was incompetent and insinuating that perhaps Joseph Lee hadn't been the only operative sympathetic to Red Cell. Twenty-four hours later, she was dead, a result of incomplete intel on a mission apparently designed single-handedly by Andrea Karsov.

Operations sighs wearily. "She is Level Three, Michael...her cancellation cannot be ordered lightly. Oversight require irrefutable evidence that she is capable of deliberately changing the mission profile in order to effect Wilden's death."

He fixes me with a pale uncompromising stare. "Get it."

Andrea's voice brings me back to the present with a jolt.

"We could have dinner here." It's a statement, not a question. I'm almost ashamed of how easy this has been.

"Perhaps later." I smile at Andrea and reach for her, my mind filled with thoughts of Elena and Adam.

And Nikita.

~*~

I wander aimlessly around my apartment, feeling too wound up to go to bed, but too distracted to read a book.

 _Don't think about them._

Pulling open the French doors to the balcony, I lean against the doorframe and let the cool evening air tease my heated skin.

 _Don't think about him._

Music. I need some music. Leaving the doors open I flick through my CDs, trying to find something that won't remind me of Michael.

 _Don't think about it._

How can every single bloody CD possibly remind me of Michael? Irritated beyond belief, I head for the shower.

 _Don't think about her._

Hot water doesn't soothe me and the aromatherapy shower gel stubbornly refuses to calm my increasing dejected thoughts. I wind a towel into a turban around my wet hair and shrug into my dressing gown. I feel hot and restless. I want to go out, but I don't want to see anyone. I can't bear the thought of having to make conversation with anyone, but I feel as though I can't be in the apartment by myself a minute longer.

I flop down onto my unmade bed. It's back...that old feeling of being unwanted. That miserable ache of not belonging that was my constant companion for so long, a constant niggling voice telling me that I'm not good enough. A voice that I thought I'd banished long ago.

 _Don't think about them._

 _I'm tired of running from this._ Closing my eyes, I give in to the thoughts pounding to be let in. I think about him. And her. The acute misery that has been waiting to pounce on my heart ever since I watched Michael and Andrea leave Section together floods through my whole body. I knew that letting myself face this would hurt.

I brush my tears away angrily. _I just didn't realize that it would hurt this much._

~*~

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

The secret to being a successful Valentine operative is the ability to separate your body from your mind, sex from love. It also helps if you're not desperately in love with someone else, but there are ways to make the flesh willing, even if the spirit is weak.

I quickly discover that Andrea approaches making love the same way she approaches profiling a delicate mission. No detail is overlooked. There is not an inch of my body that she doesn't caress, her small hands touching and molding my desire to her own design. She seeks to give pleasure as well as taking her own, almost methodical in her passion.

We make love slowly, in a hushed silence that is only broken by her soft sighs and my ragged breathing. A combination of weariness and sexual frustration only serves to heighten my senses, and I let my body lose itself in physical gratification.

Andrea cries out softly, her hands clutching my hips hard as I shudder against her. I look deep into her eyes, our breath mingling warmly between our lips, so close together. She returns my look, her gaze intense and yet remote, and I realise with a pang that she is still a stranger to me.

I pull the sheet up over our cooling bodies and watch Andrea doze, weariness etched on her pale face. Two missions back to back for an operative with no previous field experience will have tired her and I allowed her little sleep last night.

I try to sleep, but my mind is twisting and turning in a hundred different directions. I rub my gritty eyes, wishing I could force myself to embrace the luxury of sleep. _I'm so tired._ Dealing with Elena's questions about the business conferences that don't exist, running from the emotions that slam into me every time I see Nikita, and now making love to a virtual stranger.

As Andrea stirs and stretches beside me, I can't help but appreciate the irony of my situation. Many a man would envy me. In the last six months, I have made love to four beautiful women. If my life was my own, there is only one that I would have chosen to be with. Only one knows who I really am, and in my more hopeful moments I believe that she may actually love me in spite of that knowledge.

Andrea moves beside me and I feel her eyes on me. For the last few hours, I have been torn between relief that she is guilty of the treason with which she has been charged, and despising myself for it. I had grown to admire her, her single-mindedness. As yet I've seen no sign of a disturbed mind, only a rather lonely woman who doesn't quite know how to express the passion that I know is locked away deep inside her.

"Michael...anything wrong?"

I stare at the ceiling. _Yes, something is wrong. Your life depends on how you will react to my cruelty in a few hours. My innocent wife and child think that I'm at a conference in Madrid._ I close my eyes briefly as another face flashes in my mind. _And you are not the person that I want to be lying here with, holding in my arms._

"Everything's fine."

Andrea moves my hand from where it is resting on her hip and entwines her fingers through mine. Her palm is cool, her hand small and delicate. I watch our hands as she continues to touch and stroke my fingers. The silence between us lengthens awkwardly until she takes a deep breath. "I think I could love you."

I say nothing, but her choice of words intrigues me. So shuttered, so closed-off. _So like myself._

"It's Nikita, isn't it?"

My breath sticks in my suddenly dry throat and I have to force myself not to start at the sound of Nikita's name. I don't want to talk about her while lying in another woman's bed.

I keep my eyes on our entwined hands, my heart starting to hammer in my chest as I dance around the question. "What do you mean?"

"You had a relationship with her." She hesitates, as if suddenly unsure of her facts. "At least, that's what people say. Is it true?"

I don't even want to think about the many and varied things that people say about Nikita and myself. Gossip abounds in any workplace and Section is no exception. Sighing silently, I realize that there is no point in denying what Andrea obviously already knows.

"Yes." Even this small admission feels like a betrayal.

"Did you love her?" Andrea is quietly insistent.

 _Yes. More than she will ever know or understand._

I keep my churning thoughts to myself, and try to put her off. "Does that matter?"

"It does to me."

I turn my head and finally meet her eyes.

"Yes, I loved her." As bizarre as the circumstances are, I can't quite believe the sense of relief of saying the words out loud. Admitting to another person what I've had to keep hidden deep inside myself for nearly four long years.

"And now?"

 _I still love her._

I curl a hand around her face, hoping to distract her from what I know will be an evasive answer. "Now there's you."

I haven't answered her question at all, but she doesn't seem to notice. She presses a kiss to my palm, her free hand tracing gentle circles on my chest. I watch her touch me, but I feel disconnected, my body responding automatically to her touch but my mind watching from a great distance.

I'm a fool. I should have never let Andrea talk about Nikita, let alone confess to having loved her. Now my body is being buffeted by burning memories of making love to a totally different woman to the one I'm holding in my arms.

Desperately needing to clear my mind of Nikita, I roll over onto my side and run my hand up Andrea's smooth thigh, hooking a leg over hers to bring her hips flush against mine. She gasps softly and wraps her arms around my neck, her lips seeking mine. I roll again and she is lying beneath me, her warmth clutching at my hardening body. Valentine training will always take over when the heart rebels. I take her again, finding no solace in either her release or mine, her soft cries of pleasure tearing strips off a heart already torn in two.

 

~*~

 

4:30 am. _Ten minutes since you last checked the time, Nikita._ I roll over and punch my pillow hard, but it doesn't help. I have dozed on and off, but every time I closed my eyes all night, all I could see was Michael and Andrea dancing. I bite my lip as I think of how he touched her, held her close. God, his hands were all over her. Angry with myself I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I need to get up and get dressed before I can change my mind. It's way too early to be going to Section, but if I don't get out of this apartment, I'm going to go mad.

I start the coffee maker and take a hot shower, willing myself to stop thinking of the mission yesterday. Mixed in with the jealousy I can no longer deny is a health dose of guilty conscience.

I stare unseeing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I have no right to feel lied to or hard done by as far as Michael is concerned. I'm keeping so many secrets from him at the moment I can hardly remember my own name sometimes. Every time I see Michael, I have to fight the overwhelming urge to tell him what is going on in my life.

I want to tell him how Operations came to my apartment three months ago and told me all about a woman called Adrian, and how he needed me to help bring her down, that between the two of us, we were going to save Section. I want to throw myself into his arms and blurt it all out, how I am going to have to lie to him, to use him in order to achieve Section's goal.

But I never do. Another conversation is seared into my mind, into my heart.

 _"I'm not sure I care about saving Section."_

 _He only smiles at me, his pale eyes watching me intently. "But you do care about the lives of the hundreds of thousands of innocents who will die if Section is no longer there to protect them...don't you?"_

 _He had me there, and he knew it. Annoyed at being outmanoeuvred and not willing to give in so easily, I try one last line of resistance. "I don't even know this woman. Is she really the terrible threat that you're making her out to be? How do I know that you're telling me the truth?"_

 _Operations smirks, his mouth curving with genuine amusement. "You're just going to have to trust me." I look at him and smile cynically, trying hard not to picture him as a used car salesman. "I don't think I can do that."_

 _His face hardens, any trace of humour vanishing before my eyes. "I think you will."_

I start to towel dry my hair roughly, helpless anger seeping through me yet again as I think of Operations' bargaining tool. _Michael._

Operations dangled Michael's life in front of me and told me that I _would_ do as he asked. My total compliance in exchange for Michael's safety. When I look back now, I find it hard to believe that I fell for it so quickly... _did I really believe that Operations would cancel his best operative in order to call me to heel?_ I dismiss the thought as soon as it enters my head. Threatening Michael was the quickest way to get me to do what he wanted, and he and I both knew it.

So now I'm living this bizarre double life, living in a state of suspended animation until Adrian makes the first move, unable to talk about it with my closest friends, and the man whose life I'm trying to protect is, at the moment, acting as though I don't exist. Needless to say, I'm not having the best couple of months of my life.

Irritated with myself for letting it all get to me, I start to slam drawers, pulling clothes out, happy with nothing I see. There's nothing like seeing the man you... _god, you can't even say it when you're alone, can you?_ I grit my teeth and fling more clothes onto my bed. Nothing like seeing the man you...want with someone else to make you feel like the most unattractive hag in the world. I sift through a mountain of black clothes before I find what I'm looking for.

It's a fitted long sleeved black top, with a plunging neckline that always makes me feel pretty damn fine. I grab a push up bra out of my top drawer and get dressed quickly. As I start to brush my hair, planning to leave it down, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. _What am I doing? Just what am I trying to prove here?_ I shake my head, more than a little impatient with myself. I put down the brush, pull my hair back into a haphazard knot and leave my face bare. _The top can stay._ I take another look in the mirror and defiantly tug the shirt down to show a bit more skin. _The push up bra can stay too._ Despite everything, I manage a smirk at my reflection before I head downstairs to have my coffee.

More to distract myself than anything else, I let my mind wander to Walter as I have breakfast. Why did Madeline ask me about him? _Must be something serious if she's asking my opinion._

I frown, feeling more than slightly guilty. I've been so caught up in my own problems lately that I haven't _really_ talked to Walter for a few days. We've had the usual chit-chat...he complains that I'm not wearing my skirts short enough these days. I invite him to go shopping with me to the local rubber and leatherwear store. He blushes and tells me to get out of there. But it's not _talking._ Not really. I check my watch. He should be in Section by now. Perhaps it's time for Walter and I to have a little talk.

 

~*~

 

 

I start to take my usual route through Section, but stop myself. Do I really want to go past Michael's office, only to find that it's in darkness because his normal routine has been...disrupted? He's usually here by now, but it _is_ only five-thirty in the morning. If he's not there, then he must be...I take a deep breath. _Stop it. You are getting ridiculous about this._

I keep walking. As I round the corner, the sight of Michael's darkened office greets me. I walk past quickly, but not before my breath tightens in my chest, jealousy seeping hotly through every fibre of my body. My skin feels overheated, irritable. I keep walking towards Munitions, feeling more miserable than I have been in a long time.

Just before I reach Walter's workstation, I stop. I want to talk to him calmly about anything that's bothering him and I can't do that if I'm crying all over him. After a few deep breaths, I feel a little bit more under control, and manage stroll into Munitions as though I haven't a care in the world. Walter's lurking in the ammunition shelves, but I only have to wait a few moments before he appears. "Hey, Walter." He looks at me distractedly.

"So, what's going on with you?"

Walter gives me a small smile, nothing like the usual beaming leer that greets me every day.

"Nothing much." He walks away and starts to mess around with some equipment on the other side of the bench, obviously hoping that I'll just go away. _Nice try Walter, but I don't give up that easy!_ A pang of tenderness clutches at my heart as I study his back. His shoulders are rigid with tension, his head bowed. I walk over to where he is fidgeting aimlessly with some old comm. units and stand in front of him, where he can't ignore me.

"That's not what I've heard."

He meets my eyes and I'm shocked to see how tired he looks. He sighs heavily and sits down at his workstation.

"Operations wants me to lie to Oversight."

Confused, I can only stare at him. This is the first I've heard about this. "Lie about what?"

"What difference does it make?" The uncaring tone in his voice sends a flurry of panic through me.

He starts working again, not wanting to talk about it. I don't care. I already feel as though I've lost Michael. I can't lose Walter too. I move slowly over to him, desperately needing to bring him out of this terrible funk that he's sunk into.

"The difference between life and death."

Such dramatic words from me, and I'm not really surprised when Walter looks at me with wide eyes, as if he can't quite believe that I've said them. We contemplate each other for a few seconds before he looks away.

"You, of all people, are telling me to _lie_?"

I ignore the inner turmoil that his question stirs up and lean closer to him.

"No. I'm telling you to survive." Walter barks out a humourless laugh and shakes his head at me.

"Well, I'm really not interested in surviving any more...what I _am_ interested in is living. That's where the real difference is." He stops suddenly, and I know that we're both thinking of the same person. _Belinda._ I feel the tears building behind my eyes as I look at his sad face, a face that's seen way too much pain and misery. He sniffs and looks at me, almost embarrassed by his emotion. "Oh, hell. I've been hanging around this place too long already."

 _He's giving up._ The same feeling of panic takes hold of me. _I can't let him do this._ A more selfish thought makes itself heard. _I can't live this life by myself._

I snake an arm around his neck and pull him close to me. His forehead is resting against my face, his bandana silky on my skin. A little overwhelmed by the strength of my feelings for this wonderful man, I can only whisper to him.

"Walter. "

"Hmmm?"

"Don't talk like that again." I feel close to tears, unable to say any more.

I feel him smile, his soft sigh brushing my face before he shakes his head slightly.

"It's just like I've always said. You're one of the good ones." He puts an arm around my back and squeezes me tight. "Don't change." I hug him harder, hoping that I won't dissolve into tears and embarrass us both.

The loud beep of his intercom makes me jump and my heart starts to race in nervous anticipation as Madeline's voice floats quietly into the room.

"Walter."

I pull my arm away from Walter's neck, suddenly aware I'm hugging him so tightly that he probably doesn't have the breath to speak. He looks towards the intercom and takes a deep breath, as if to steady his nerves.

"Right here."

"I would like to meet with you."

Walter gets up slowly, and I can feel the tension coming off him in waves. He clears his throat, and replies as breezily as he can.

"Sure thing. In your office?"

Madeline's disembodied voice is calm. "No. In the White Room."

My stomach flips over. _The White Room?_ I look at Walter, shocked. He swallows hard before answering. "Okay."

We both unconsciously hold our breath while we wait for the intercom to click off. Walter doesn't say anything, but his face is pale.

"Walter?"

"It's okay, Sugar." He grins weakly at me. "Whatever they can dish out, I can handle." He puffs out his chest in an exaggerated pose, but he's not fooling me. I saw the flash of fear in his eyes when Madeline said to meet her in the White Room. We look at each other for a long minute and I reach out to clutch his hand in mine. He gives me a too bright smile and gently disentangles his hand from mine, before walking slowly out of Munitions. I watch him leave and my heart aches for him. _And for me._

 

~*~

 

"You wanted to see me?"

Madeline and Operations are standing together in Operations' office, talking quietly. They turn at the sound of my voice. Operations takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly before looking at me intently.

"Yes. It's about Andrea Karsov."

"Yes?"

Madeline smiles at me. "Have you slept with her?"

I wince inwardly. Her question is hardly unexpected, but the malicious enjoyment in her voice still stings my conscience.

"Yes."

"When?"

I try not to betray the fact that I'm finding this conversation distasteful, but it's difficult.

"Last night."

Madeline throws Operations an almost triumphant look that I ignore. I can only imagine the discussions that they have had about this matter in private.

Madeline walks slowly towards me. "Seeing as you and Andrea had sex for the first time last night..." She pauses, raising an eyebrow at me, an unspoken question. I say nothing but my silence only seems to answer her question. "Rejecting her now will have the optimal effect on her psychological state, coming so soon after your encounter." She smiles at me slightly, her eyes dark and unemotional. "I would suggest that you be as brutal about it as you can manage."

Acid sticking to the back of my throat, I nod curtly at her and start to walk away. Operations' terse voice calls me back.

"Whatever it is you need to do to push her over the edge...do it now, Michael. We need this matter resolved _now_."

I couldn't agree more.

"Of course."

I leave Operations' office with a weary sense of déjà vu. _How many times have I gone through these motions, seducing and then callously discarding in the name of Section?_ I walk swiftly through Section, resentment simmering as unwanted memories flood my mind, a final bitter question assaulting my conscience. _How many more times will I have to destroy another human being, all for the good of the Section?_

Walking past Munitions, my heart lurches as I catch sight of Nikita. She is talking to Walter, so wrapped up in what looks to be a very intense discussion that she doesn't see me. _What is she doing here?_ Her schedule indicated that she isn't required until late this afternoon. I frown as I realise why her being in Section has disturbed me so much. _I don't want to her see what I'm about to do to Andrea._

I stop abruptly outside the entrance to Comm, my mind churning. _Has it come to this, that I am so concerned about Nikita's opinion of me that it has started to affect my ability to perform my required tasks?_ There's really no need to seek an answer for my own question, not with the aching certainty that is sinking like stone to the pit of my stomach.

I walk slowly through to Comm, catching sight of Andrea immediately. She is standing at her workstation, totally focused on her work. As I walk towards her, I scan the immediate area. It's still very early and we're relatively alone. Most importantly, Nikita is nowhere to be seen.

Andrea turns and smiles, happy to see me. "Hi."

I look at her smiling face and want to walk away. Most of the targets for Valentine missions are innocents, people in the wrong place at the wrong time. For the Valentine operative, there is always a certain degree of guilt involved, both during the mission and afterwards. This is going to be no exception.

I don't return her greeting or her smile. "Do you have the security workup?"

Her smile falters slightly at my lack of response, but she doesn't hesitate to reply. "Yes. They have an unusual package. Heartbeat I.D."

"We'll need one other person with the appropriate clearance. "

She takes a step towards me, wordlessly inviting me to move closer to her. "We already have him. We'll imprint his EKG on the digital patch."

I stand motionless and look into her eyes, letting the warmth drain from my expression. "Good, let me see the lab."

Andrea nods and heads back to her workstation, quickly bringing up a detailed floor plan of the laboratory. I stand behind her chair, close enough to read the screen, but not to touch her.

"Make sure the secondary egress has adequate coverage."

She hastens to reassure me, confident in her abilities. "I will."

I turn to walk away slowly, knowing that the conversation is far from over, waiting only for her to make the next move.

Andrea leans back as though stretching stiff muscles, her head tilted back to look at me. "I'll be finished here in an hour. Get something to eat?"

I meet her eyes briefly, unemotionally before turning to walk away. "I'm busy."

My abrupt answer only prompts another invitation. "How about later?"

I sigh silently. The subtle approach is obviously not going to work here. I'm going to have to spell it out brutally. I have been cold and distant, and Andrea has yet to notice a change in my manner towards her. A sudden thought flares to life. _I have grown too used to Nikita._

"It's a bad time right now." The well worn cliché rolls off my tongue effortlessly.

She frowns as my choice of words hits home. "What do you mean?"

I stare at her briefly before replying, my tone dismissive. "Just what I said."

Andrea hesitates before rising out of her chair, confusion warring with anxiety in her eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

I answer carelessly without meeting her eyes. "It's nobody's fault. Some things are not meant to be."

Andrea's face flushes with a combination of hurt and embarrassment. She swallows hard and looks around anxiously, suddenly realising that this is not a conversation that should have an audience.

She takes a deep breath, her body rigid with tension. Her eyes lock onto mine in mute appeal. "Let's at least talk about it?"

I return Andrea's gaze impassively, watching the blood drain from her face at my parting words.

"We have."

I turn my back on her and walk away, knowing that I've carried out my duties as required, that what I've just done is for the good of the Section, that Andrea is not an innocent. I tell myself all this as I walk away from her, but the hollow feeling of self-loathing that always follows a betrayal has me in its familiar grip.

I walk quickly through Section. The need to make myself scarce in order to thwart any attempt on Andrea's part to seek me out is one reason. I grit my teeth and stride faster towards the ground level exit as I reluctantly acknowledge the other reason. I don't want to see Nikita, couldn't bear to look at her after what I've just done...can't bear to meet her eyes, knowing the chain of events that I've just put in motion.

I close my eyes briefly and send up a silent prayer that Nikita can survive the ordeal that she is about to unknowingly stumble into...and that we both can survive its fallout.

 

 

~*~

 

 

The knock on my door is loud and urgent. It's not Michael's. I catch myself, feeling slightly embarrassed. _How sad is that? I know how Michael's knock sounds._

I frown, irritated. I have been trying to find the time to work through this new yoga routine for a week now. It's supposed to promote calm and soothe a stressed mind. _Definitely just what I need at the moment._

After my chat with Walter, I hightailed it out of Section. I didn't have to be there for another eight hours, and I didn't feel like running into Michael and Andrea. So I came home, tidied my apartment with a vengeance and had a long bath before pulling on my work out gear. I have no idea who is knocking on my door, but maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away.

No such luck. The knock continues, louder this time. Admitting defeat, I take a few controlled breaths and slowly get to my feet, reluctant to part with what small sense of peace I have managed to find in the last hour.

It's Andrea.

"Hey."

She says nothing, just rakes me up and down with that pale cool stare of hers before brushing past me abruptly.

 _Nice manners._ Perhaps a few weeks deportment training with Madeline wouldn't go astray. Realising that my uninvited guest has no intention of leaving any time soon, I shut the door with a faint clunk before turning slowly to face her.

My simmering resentment towards this woman finds a temporary escape in my usual outlet of sarcasm. "Come in."

"Is he here?" She is nervous, agitated. _Jeez, she's making me tense just watching her._

I have a pretty good idea who she means, but I stall anyway. _What is she doing here?_

"Who?"

"You know who. Michael."

Her question causes a prickle of sadness deep inside me as I think of how long it's been since Michael actually has been here. I turn away from her, not really wanting to talk about Michael with this woman.

"No. He's not here." I'm trying to work out exactly what is going on, but I'm distracted by my stubbornly foolish thoughts. _Why would she look for Michael here? What has he told her about me to make her believe that he would be with me?_

I have the sudden feeling that I should be sitting down for this one. Brushing past the very angry woman standing in my living room, I take a seat on the couch, fighting the urge to curl up like a kid. The vibes coming from Andrea are making me feel very uncomfortable. _She_ makes me uncomfortable.

"He won't see me any more. One minute everything was wonderful, the next...he was cold. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

I'm almost ashamed of the little surge of ridiculous hope that flutters in my heart. _He doesn't want anything to do with her._ Resisting the urge to gloat, I study Andrea's pale face.

"Did he say why?" I cringe at my rather obvious question, but my heart still pounds in my throat as I wait for her answer.

"No."

She looks me straight in the face and what I see at the back of her eyes sends a shiver up my back. There is a bleak emptiness there, a _nothingness_ that doesn't sit right with her passionate words.

"What's going on?"

I just look at her, feeling as though my mind is racing at a million miles an hour. Something is not right here. I mean, Michael can be cold and heartless but this is just not him. He's not given to spontaneous sex. It takes him forever to make a decision about that sort of thing. _And I should know._

"I don't know." It's the truth. I have no idea what Michael is doing. _But I certainly intend to find out._ I suddenly feel angry with Andrea for dragging me into this. I know that she's heard the Section gossip. Even if the facts _were_ slightly exaggerated, surely she must realise that I'm the last person she should be talking to about Michael. It dawns on me as I look at her, every line in her body stiffened by anger, that even if she did realise that I'm uncomfortable, she wouldn't care.

Andrea keeps pacing up and down. She seems so calm, but she's not. There is a brittle anger in her words, her face. So tightly coiled that she might snap at any moment. I shift uncomfortably on the sofa as I watch her.

"Did he get through to me just to prove he could? Is he that much of a monster?" Andrea stops pacing, staring at me intently. I lean back in my seat, startled by the hate I see in her eyes, but my temper flares at her questions. _Don't you dare to presume that you know him after only a few days._

"Is that what he did to you?"

I stare at her, the blood seeming to roar through my veins, my heart pounding wildly. Angry with her for forcing me to answer questions that I don't want to face, I look away, trying to think of an answer that will satisfy her.

 _No...that's not what he did to me._ Memories sear my soul. _I can't begin to tell you what he did to me, what we've done to each other._ I look around my apartment, a dull ache clenching my heart as I think of the last time that Michael _was_ here. He was afraid, confused, his mind a blank canvas. And yet...he _knew_ me, knew instinctively that there was something more than friendship between us. _Oh god._ He asked me to dance, held me close in his arms and then thanked me for it. The Michael I always dreamed about, the one who could tell me that he loved me and mean it. The Michael I knew then that I could never keep, the man I had to destroy so that he could live.

I look back at Andrea, waiting, her face pale with rage.

 

~*~

 

I hold my breath as I wait for Nikita's answer, thankful that I had the foresight to handle the audio surveillance on the apartment alone.

I returned to Section only after a call to Madeline assured me that Andrea had walked out. Before she left, she apparently approached Birkoff, demanding that he give her my home address. Shuddering inwardly at the possible ramifications of _that_ scenario, I asked Madeline to ensure that Birkoff was taken off my team for the next mission.

My intentions were threefold. Birkoff could direct all his attentions to the Bahrain situation. He would not have any further contact with Andrea, making it difficult for her to express her anger, in any shape or form, over his refusal to help her. Finally, it would necessitate Andrea taking over the Comm position. If she was going to take any action against me, it would provide the perfect opportunity.

I increase the volume on my comm unit, making a mental note to erase this recording before it can be entered into the system

Nikita's tone becomes placating, with more than a hint of impatience. "Andrea ..."

"It's not right!" Andrea's voice grows louder, angrier. "It's just not right!"

There is a brief silence. I hear Nikita's familiar sigh, before her softly spoken words proceed to pierce the brittle shell around my heart.

"I don't pretend to understand him, but...he lost someone a while ago. It scarred him." I close my eyes and let her words, full of caring and empathy, wash over me. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing.

I hear Nikita sigh again before going on, the sadness in her voice obvious. "He might not want to get too close again."

I turn up the volume on my comm. unit again with a suddenly unsteady hand, wishing desperately that I could see Nikita's face as she spoke. The video surveillance in her apartment has been shorting out for the last week, although I have more than a sneaking suspicion that Nikita has been doing a bit of "home maintenance." No other operative has her knack of finding Section's hidden cameras so quickly.

"You're making excuses for him."

Andrea is quite right. Nikita _is_ making excuses for me. But the words that she spoke seemed to come from her heart, as though it was a conclusion that she had already come to herself. The all too familiar sense of regret and guilt twists my gut.

I hear Nikita clear her throat then, her next words confirming my painful thoughts.

"I don't think so. I'm just being realistic." She sounds almost weary, and the pained resignation that I hear in her voice clutches at my heart.

It's as though Andrea's is no longer listening to Nikita. "He can't do this."

Nikita doesn't reply.

"We can't let him get away with it." Although Andrea sounds strangely calm I can tell by the growing wariness in Nikita's voice that she is far from it.

"What does that mean?

"I mean, we have to _do_ something." Andrea's voice is fading in and out, as though she is moving around the apartment. Nikita sounds as though she has reached the end of her patience with this particular conversation. "Such as...?"

 _Enough of this._ I dial Nikita's cell number, hearing its ring echo eerily in my comm unit. I pull the unit out of my ear as I wait for her to answer the phone.

"Hello?" She sounds slightly rattled.

I take a deep breath, her words to Andrea in my defence lingering in my mind. "Josephine."

There is a brief silence before she answers with her standard "I have someone in my apartment" voice.

"Yep?" _Very cheery._

"Come in."

She hangs up with a loud click, and I reach for my comm. unit, quickly putting it back in my ear. I hear footsteps going towards Nikita's front door. "Look, Andrea..."

"I don't understand you. He obviously did the same thing to you. Why do you let him get away with it?"

"It's not as simple as that." I hope that I am simply being paranoid, but Nikita sounds as though she's starting to wonder the same thing herself.

"Fine." The front door is wrenched open, hard. "I feel sorry for you, letting him have that power over you. But I don't intend to let him make a fool out of _me._ " With that parting shot, Andrea appears to be gone.

The sound of the door slamming is so loud it almost causes feedback static in my comm. unit. Wincing, I turn the sound down, but not before I hear Nikita's reaction to her visitor.

"Well. What the _hell_ was _that_?"

 

~*~

 

"You wanted to see me?"

Michael looks up at me. He looks drawn. "Sit down."

I slouch in his spare chair, butterflies churning in my stomach. Andrea's words are still ringing in my ears and being here with Michael now is having a bad effect on my nerves. His next words send the butterflies into hysterics.

"Andrea came to your apartment today." Shocked, I can only sit and look at him blankly. Unperturbed, he continues. "Why?"

 _What the...?_ I don't know what's going on here, but I am definitely going to find out. I give him a blank stare of my own. "You seem to have all the answers already, Michael. Why don't you tell me?"

"I'm asking _you._ "

 _Too weird._ I hesitate, trying to think of the nicest way to phrase what I want to say.

"She's not very happy with you at the moment. She thought that you might be with me." I watch his impassive face and dare to ask the question that has been niggling at me. "Why would she think that?"

Michael ignores my question, just keeps looking at me with those shuttered eyes that give away nothing. I sigh and start to drum my fingers on the top of his desk nervously.

"She basically asked me if I knew what was going on with you."

He tilts his head to one side, eyes never leaving mine. "And what did you say?"

This is so awkward. _I don't want to sit here, discussing his little fling with him._ I catch myself, something suddenly clicking into place in my head.

Michael is cold and ruthless with me when he has to be, mostly to save my sorry life. But he has never been intentionally cruel. The only times Michael has treated me callously is when Section demanded it. Suspicion is slowly becoming certainty in my mind. If this affair was the real deal, there is _no way_ he would sit here discussing it with me, let alone asking me questions about it. I'm pretty sure that he would find that distasteful. It wouldn't be the polite thing to do.

 _Curiouser and curiouser._ So why _are_ we sitting here, discussing this?

I take a deep breath and smile innocently at him. "I told her that I had no idea." He says nothing. "What is going on? Don't tell me you just decided that you needed someone to sleep with. That's not your style." An uncontrollable urge to goad him takes hold of my tongue. "Besides, you could always just ask for a nice little valentine mission if that was the problem..."

Michael looks away, but not before I manage to see his reaction to my words. Some dark emotion flared in his eyes when I said the words _valentine mission._ Leaning forward I put my elbows on the top of his desk, fighting the urge to grab him by the collar and shake it out of him.

"What's...going...on?"

Michael looks through the blinds hanging at his window, at the wall behind me, and finally at me. I stare at him, searching his face, his eyes, desperate to see what he's not telling me.

He slowly gets up from his chair and walks around to stand next to me. I stare straight ahead, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. I get to my feet slowly, turning around until I'm looking him right in the face. Then I see it, a flash of mute appeal so fleeting that I immediately think that I must have imagined it. It's almost as though I blinked and it was gone, his usual inscrutable gaze firmly back in place.

"The briefing's in ten minutes. Let's go."

Michael reaches out and opens his office door before stepping back, waiting for me to leave first. I brush past him, my mind racing almost as fast as my heart.

The only time I have been more uncomfortable at a briefing was the time I had to suffer being in the same room as that creep David Fanning. The rumour mill has obviously been working overtime today. I can feel the glances from the other guys on the team when they think I'm not looking. I can see them darting looks at Michael and Andrea too. _The gossipmongers must be having a field day._

Michael stands at the head of the table. I try to keep my eyes on him, not wanting to catch Andrea's eye. I listen to his voice, trying to zone out all the distractions.

"I'll handle demolition. Nikita will ensure egress. Since Birkoff is working on the Bahrain Mission, Andrea will provide tactical. Any questions?"

Andrea tilts her head to regard Michael coolly. "I have a question." The tone of her voice sets off the alarm bells in my head. _Not good._ And _this_ is the woman who will be responsible for our lives in a few hours. I sit transfixed as she goes on, her voice low and even.

"Who the hell do you think you are, treating me like this?"

 _Shit._ This is definitely not good. I glance quickly around the table at the other members of our team and almost smile. Every single one of them is on their feet and getting the hell outta Dodge.

 _Good idea._ I push back my chair, and start to stand up, trying not to catch the eye of either of the two people in front of me. Andrea's gaze snaps around, pinning me in my seat.

"Nikita, stay. This concerns you, too."

 

~*~

 

Nikita sits back down with a dull thud, before slouching in her chair as though trying to disappear into its depths.

I suppress a sigh and turn to look at Andrea. Emotionally unstable she may be, but she is also predictable, according to her psyche profile. I can only assume that she wants to embarrass me by having this conversation in front of Nikita. Any lingering sympathy I may have felt for this woman is rapidly dissolving in the face of Nikita's obvious discomfort.

Andrea stares up at me, her face finely drawn with tension. "You toyed with me like a cat with a mouse. I won't tolerate it."

"I didn't toy with you." A useless denial and I can see by the spark of fury in Andrea's eyes that she knows it too.

To the casual observer, it would appear as though Andrea has ambushed me with this scene, but the answers to her predictable questions have been carefully planned, meticulously calculated to push her closer and closer to the edge of her emotional boundaries.

"Then what were you doing?" Her voice is still calm, but I can hear the resentment simmering beneath her even tone.

I meet her intense gaze with indifference. "Investigating."

"Investigating what?"

"You." My monosyllabic answers are only serving to infuriate her further.

"Why?" Andrea looks at me in confusion.

"You were suspected of leaking intel to Red Cell. I needed access to your personal files." Nikita, who is peering at Andrea from underneath her veil of blonde hair, gives a slight start of surprise at this.

"I've never leaked intel to anybody." For a split second, guilt silences me. Andrea's quite right to defend herself. She has never been guilty of leaking intel. I look at her pale face, and remember that this woman has the deaths of four section operatives on her hands, and she killed them without remorse, without reason.

I force myself to meet her eyes, keeping my expression bland. "I know that. The suspicions were unfounded."

Andrea takes a deep breath, a sharp hiss of air in the too quiet room. "Then you never cared for me at all?"

 

~*~

 

God, I wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. _If this is how a fly on the wall feels, the flies can keep it._ As much as I dislike the girl, I feel so sorry for her. I bow my head, not wanting to look at either of them.

"I respect you as a colleague."

 _Oh...nice one, Michael...just what a girl wants to hear after she's been made love to._ I shake my head, feeling perversely amused in spite of the situation. He's almost outdone himself. _At least he didn't tell her to get over it._

"I see." The icy tone of her voice tells me that she does indeed see. "Investigation's over now?"

"Yes. You've been cleared."

The air between them is fairly crackling with tension, but it's not a sensual charge any more. The air of erotic intent that Michael was projecting towards Andrea has vanished, completely dissolved, leaving behind nothing but cool disinterest. _How the hell does he do it? Hollywood has missed a great romantic lead in you, Michael. I'm sure you could convince any audience of your undying passion for your leading lady._ I glance quickly at Andrea. Judging by the look on her face, she doesn't appreciate his acting prowess.

Her face tight with quiet fury, she nods her head at Michael and stands up. As she is walking away, Michael calls out softly after her.

"I'm sorry."

Andrea whirls around and glares at him, her whole body rigid with anger. My breath catches in my throat when I see the look on her face. The hatred burning in her eyes as she stares at Michael sends a shocked chill down my back, her earlier declaration ringing in my ears.

 _We can't let him get away with this...we have to do something._

She turns on her heel and leaves the room quickly. Silence. I look down, feeling slightly awkward now that only Michael and I are left in the room. There is an oddly strained pause before he speaks and I can tell from the direction of his voice that he isn't looking at me either.

"The Mission begins in an hour. Better get ready."

He doesn't have to tell me twice ~ I can't wait to get out of here. I nod, and push myself up from the chair, letting out my breath in a relieved sigh. _That little scene was a little too intense for me._

I leave the room in indecent haste, spending the next hour dressing and collecting my equipment from Walter. Michael joins me in Munitions but apart from a short discussion with Walter about the heartbeat ID he will be wearing, he says nothing. I can't think of anything to say to him either so I just end up following him when he leaves Walter's workstation and heads towards van access.

Realising that I'm about to lose my last opportunity to speak to him alone, I take a deep breath and plunge right on in. I pull on my gloves as I speak, trying to give my restless hands something to do.

"Have you spoken to Andrea since the briefing?"

He keeps walking and answers me without turning around. "No."

We're now just outside the door to van access and I stop in my tracks and stare at him. "Maybe you should."

Michael stops walking. It's a start, but he still won't look at me.

"She's more than just angry, Michael." He says nothing and I start to get angry with him. Frustrated that he's not more concerned about his safety, hurt that he won't talk to me about this. I try again. "She's _dangerous._ "

He finally turns to look at me, seemingly unconcerned. "What can she do?"

I can only shake my head at him, fighting the urge to reach out and put my hand on his arm. That odd sense of approaching danger, the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong is so strong that I almost feel sick in the stomach. He waits patiently for my answer but I hardly know what to say.

"I'm not sure. Just be careful."

Michael only looks at me calmly, his eyes flicking over my face intently before he turns and heads through the van access door. I follow him slowly, silently mulling over his words. As far as he's concerned, the discussion is over. I think of the look in Andrea's eyes when Michael told her that he was sorry and an almost violent shiver skitters down my spine. I can't just let this go.

 

~*~

 

"Michael." The quiet desperation in her voice stops me and I turn to look at her. Worry is etched into her fine features, almost as though she's afraid for me.

Scanning the area, I realize that we're still waiting on two team members. For the moment, we're alone. I look into her eyes and find I can no longer hold my tongue in the face of her distress.

I choose my words carefully but I still have to look away, not wanting to see her reaction. "Section is evaluating her." I hear her sudden intake of breath and force myself to meet her eyes.

She's staring at me, my words hanging heavily between us.

"Evaluating her? Why?" She looks around quickly, as if to check for any curious ears and eyes. Her shocked gaze moves back to rest on my face. "What sort of an evaluation could possibly involve forcing you to sleep with her?" Nikita flushes as soon as she finishes speaking and looks away in embarrassment.

"Nikita." She takes a deep breath and meets my eyes again, and I'm taken aback by the empathy in her gaze. We look at each other for a long moment. My heart starts to pound unsteadily as I finally let myself believe what I see in her face. _Sympathy...not anger._ The sudden relief that surges through me makes me reckless and I find myself saying more than I planned to. "I need you to stay focused. If something off-profile happens on site, I have to be able to depend on you."

"If something happens?" She repeats my words slowly, confusion flashing in her eyes. "Michael, what's going on?"

I've told her too much already. Angry with myself, my reply is more abrupt than I intended it to be.

"Just what I said."

Nikita blinks at me then, a look of hurt flickering across her face before she turns on her heel and walks past me into the waiting transport. I sigh quietly and wait until Hobson and Blacker appear before joining her, not wanting to have to be alone with her, feeling the gulf between us stretching wider and wider.

The journey to the laboratory is a silent one. Nikita studiously avoids my gaze. She sits with her arms folded, staring either at the ceiling or straight ahead. She looks as though she is a million miles away, her thoughts whirring furiously and my heart aches for all the things I cannot tell her.

As usual, any tension between us dissolves the moment we leave the transport and take our assigned positions. I watch Nikita surreptitiously as she checks her weapon, appreciating the irony of the situation. Communication in the field, even under life threatening circumstances, has never been the problem.

I turn away from her as a large delivery van rumbles past us and proceeds to drive up to the loading bay. Our arrival has been timed to the second to coincide with the delivery of canisters of the virus. The mission profile is simple. We go in, we set the detonator, we get out.

Nikita and I exchange a long look. _Time to move._

 

~*~

 

Resistance is minimal, the lab technicians ill-prepared for an armed assault. I take down three of them inside the laboratory, leaving Nikita to guard the entrance to the long corridor.

The outer door to the safe is not secured. I move through it into a small atrium, my eyes searching for the security locks that protect the actual safe. I quickly punch the secondary code into the keypad lock and stand motionless, hardly breathing as the primary security system takes over, scanning the ID clipped to my jacket. After a few agonising seconds the locked door to the inner safe swings open. I let out my breath, relieved. Andrea had ample opportunity to tamper with the heartbeat ID patch before the mission and I had prepared myself for the possibility that it was not going to work.

I move through to the safe itself and start to prepare the detonator for placement as I report to Comm. "I'm in."

There's no reply from Andrea. A frisson of apprehension shoots through me. I ignore my growing unease and open the case of the detonator, punching in the codes quickly before attaching it to the main supporting column. It locks into place with a loud click, and the countdown begins, the red flashing numbers glowing in the dimly lit room.

It's done. I turn and start to walk through to the outer safe when the door suddenly slams shut in my face and alarms start to wail incessantly.

My heart leaps into my throat. _The failsafe._

"Andrea, what's happening?"

"I'm locked in." No response. "Andrea...Andrea!" There is no answer, only a dead silence that sends a cold flutter of realisation twisting through me.

I look around me. There's no way out. The timer is flashing insistently, mercilessly counting down the seconds. One minute and forty-eight seconds.

 _My god. She actually went through with it._

 

~*~

 

Just as I am thinking that my legs have gone to sleep from crouching behind this cart, my comm. unit suddenly crackles into life.

"Nikita, I need your help." It's Michael. His usually calm voice is roughened by what almost feels like panic. I can't remember the last time I heard that tone in his voice and fear tightens my chest.

I stand up slowly, trying to look everywhere at once. The loud footsteps coming towards me seem to find an echo in the banging of my heart against my ribs. Feeling as though I'm moving on automatic pilot, I drop my body back down behind the trolley just as two security guards tear past me at top speed. _What has happened to Michael?_ I can't stay here. God knows how many more guards are right behind these two. If he needs my help, I'm no good to him if I'm hiding behind this damn cart.

The guards are several metres past my position. _Now or never._ I dash out from behind the trolley, trying to take them out before they can even turn around. It works. Letting out the breath that I'm holding, I take off in the direction of the safe, towards Michael. The sound of running feet is suddenly behind me again, and I whirl around, firing wildly at the security guard who is coming around the corner. He hardly has time to draw his weapon before my shot hits him.

Heart racing, I reach the safe. At first my mind can't take in what I am seeing. The thick outer door to the safe is wide open and there is no sign of Michael. He needed my help, he said. _Where the hell is he?_ I take two steps through the outer safe doors and I have my answer.

 _Oh my god. Michael._

 

~*~

 

Nikita's concerned face suddenly appears in the window of the locked inner door, her eyes filling with fear as the situation becomes horrifically clear to her. I try to stay calm, but if we can't open this door within twenty-five seconds we'll both be dead. Nikita will not leave without me. This much I know, all too well.

She stares at me, as though frozen with shock. I swallow the lump of dread thickening my throat and try to stay focused. "We need a heartbeat."

Nikita looks down at the lock, then at me, her eyes flicking in despair over the ID pinned to my chest. I watch her face turn pale as she looks back at me with panic in her eyes.

"See if any technicians are alive."

Her eyes hold mine for a lingering heartbeat and then she is gone, our lives in her hands.

 

~*~

 

 _A heartbeat._ I rush back into the main chemical room, my own heart nearly pounding out of my chest. _Calm down...calm down._ I gulp in a few deep breaths, sucking the fresh air into my lungs in a desperate effort to cool my blood. Closing my mind off to what I'm about to do I crouch over the first body I come to, fingers frantically searching for a pulse. Nothing. _Shit!!_

It's the same story with the next lab technician. Michael's deadly efficiency may prove to be just that. _What the f-ck am I going to do?!_

Sudden movement out of the corner of my eye has my head jerking around. _Alive._ I move quickly to the man's side as he is frantically trying to crawl away on his stomach. His white coat is splattered with blood. I'm amazed that he is still alive. Gripping his shoulders I flip him quickly onto his back. He opens his eyes and gazes up at me imploringly. "Please... _help_ me."

 _Oh god._ What am I doing? _Saving Michael's life. And your own. Get going!_ I harden my heart, stand up and start dragging the dying man towards the safe where Michael is trapped. The technician slumps in my embrace and my heart lurches. _Don't die. Please don't die._ As I drag my unwilling ally towards the safe, my thoughts swirl in a million different directions, but somehow all end up in the same terrible place.

 _Andrea._ She knew that Michael was the only member of our team wearing the imprinted digital ID. She disabled the failsafe command before Michael entered the safe. None of these technicians would have had the chance to reactivate it. There is only one way that failsafe command could have been overridden, and that is by the same person who disabled it in the first place. Andrea.

 _He can't do this. We can't let him get away with this._

Wrong. _She_ is not going to get away with this. Anger shots through me, seeming to lend a much-needed surge of strength to my shaking legs. I finally reach the safe door, fear twisting coldly in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea how much time we have left.

I key in the code with shaking fingers, praying that I don't make a mistake. I don't, and the flashing display prompts me for the heartbeat ID. Gritting my teeth, I haul the nearly unconscious lab technician closer to the scanner, holding my breath as it reads his EKG. The inner door unlocks with a metallic clunk and Michael rips it open hurriedly. His name dies on my lips as he stares over my shoulder and raises his weapon to fire.

 

~*~

 

The sound of the gun firing is almost deafening, the echo bouncing crazily off the metal walls of the safe. Ears ringing, I watch as the body of the guard I've just shot falls heavily to the ground.

Nikita gives an almost imperceptible start of shock as she catches sight of this latest casualty. She releases her grip on the lab technician with a sudden jerk and his body crumples to the floor. She seems almost frozen, staring down at the man that we used to save our own lives. _Sixteen seconds and counting._ We have no time to waste mourning the dead. I put my hands on Nikita's back and push her forcibly through the outer doors of the vault. I keep pushing her until I feel awareness snap back into her body, her back muscles tensing beneath my splayed hands.

Nikita puts on a burst of speed and I follow on her heels, the blood pounding in my ears. Without speaking we start to run through the laboratory towards the exit. If Nikita and I are not on the right side of those heavy doors at the entrance in twelve seconds, we will be ripped apart by the blast.

We're fifty metres from egress when bullets tear into the computer monitors above our heads. We whirl around and return fire, glass crunching under our pounding feet. Three guards, perhaps four. A shot narrowly misses Nikita's head, shattering more monitors and bringing even more broken glass down on top of us. I reach out and put my hand on Nikita's head, forcing her to crouch down out of the line of fire as we run.

 _Please, just let me get her out of here alive._

The exit doors are suddenly in front of us and we lunge desperately through them. As soon as my body is clear, I fling one hand backwards to activate the infrared security beam. I only just manage to pull my hand back before the door closes behind us with a dull thud, and the room explodes into a fiery hell.

 

~*~

 

 

Waiting in van access for clearance, I stare at the back of Michael's head. He's only spoken to me once since we left the chemical plant. Even though we'd made it through the safety doors, we had still been pushed to our knees by the force of the blast at our backs. As I picked my bruised body up off the floor, I felt Michael's hand on my arm and looked up at him in surprise. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes caressed my face, darting from my eyes down to my lips. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers tightening almost painfully around my forearm as he took a deep breath and looked me in the eye.

"Thank you." It was barely more than a whisper, but it managed to send a hot shiver down my spine.

I couldn't speak, couldn't get the words out. In the end, I settled for a lame "you're welcome" smile and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

Things didn't get any more comfortable between us on the journey back to Section, either. The subject of Andrea, of what just happened out there loomed between us, and I got the feeling that Michael wouldn't be the one to broach the subject.

The doors open and we walk slowly into Section. Blacker and Morris disappear down the corridor, as though they can't get away from Michael and I fast enough. Now is as good a time as any for this discussion. Now, before I chicken out.

"Michael..." I see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice, as though he realises what's coming and doesn't want to know. _Too bad, mate._ I don't know why I'm bothering to point out the incredibly obvious to him, but I can't let what just happened go without doing something, saying something to him about it.

"We deactivated the failsafe on the way in."

He turns on his heel to face me, the strong lines of his face hardening into a blank mask. His eyes search my face for a seemingly endless moment before replying.

"Yes." A carefully neutral answer that acknowledges nothing at all.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I try again. "Then why did the door close behind you?"

Our eyes meet and hold. I see knowledge flicker darkly at the back of his eyes, but he's not going to be the one to say it. _Damn him._ I am _not_ going to just let this go.

"Because the failsafe was reactivated." I watch his face carefully. "There's only one person who could have done it."

 

~*~

 

Nikita takes a step forward until her face is only a breath away from mine. My heart starts to race as her clear blue eyes travel over my face, searching for the truth in my eyes. She is standing so close to me that I can feel the warmth of her body, smell the clean scent of her hair. The longing for her that is my constant companion comes to searing life, my pulse thumping unsteadily in my throat.

Nikita stares at me, waiting for an answer. She's aware that she is right, but she needs me to acknowledge it as well.

"I know." She lets out an unsteady breath at my reply, obviously glad that I have admitted what we both know.

One thought overrides all else. _I don't want to talk about this with her._ I turn and start to walk away from her.

Nikita's voice, urgent with concern, stops me. "Michael, she tried to kill you! What are you going to do about it?"

I hesitate. I can't explain the full mission profile concerning Andrea to Nikita, knowing full well that Andrea is not the only operative being evaluated here. I have already broken protocol by warning Nikita about the mission, as vague as my words were.

I can't endanger her any further. Operations and Madeline are waiting, watching for Nikita's reaction to this scenario. And yet the temptation to defend myself is so very strong.

But, if I tell her the truth...that I deliberately seduced, then rejected Andrea to enable Section to study her psychological response, then that will be the end of any sympathy she may be feeling for me. In her eyes, Andrea will become the innocent, a victim to be championed and defended.

I can't tell her. I keep walking, not wanting to look at her.

"Nothing."

An angry intake of breath is my only warning of her next words. "Why not? Because you feel guilty?"

I keep moving away from her, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Very hard to do when all I want to do is grab her, push up hard up against the wall and yell into her beautiful, betrayed face. _Yes, damn you! I am guilty of cheating on Elena, on Adam._ I keep walking. _Guilty of cheating on you._

The sexual act that I performed with Andrea only days ago has already faded from my mind, from my body. My feelings during our physical encounter are so far removed from what I feel for Nikita ~ every moment of every day ~ that it suddenly overwhelms me. I keep walking down the hallway, seeking the sanctuary of my office. I need to put some distance between us.

"What if she tries again?" Her voice is calmer, but there is still an undercurrent of tension, of suspicion.

I don't answer her. I don't feel like explaining to her that it's unlikely that Andrea will have another chance to try _anything_ in the future.

 

~*~

 

I watch Michael's back as he disappears down the corridor. _I just saved his damn life and now he's blowing me off?_ My anger fades slightly as I watch him walk slowly away from me, favouring his left leg.

He nearly died today. All because of Andrea's anger. I close my eyes and think of her face when she visited my apartment, the unspoken violence in her eyes, her words.

 _He can't do this. We can't let him get away with this._

I rub a hand over my tired eyes, trying to sort through my confused thoughts. Andrea _will_ try to hurt Michael again. He's not going to do anything to stop her. _So I guess that just leaves me._

I start to walk towards Madeline's office, my heart racing. _What do I tell her?_ Knowing Madeline, she will only smile and ask me if I'm letting my feelings for Michael cloud my judgment of Andrea. I flush at the very thought. I've had far too many conversations with Madeline that either begin or end with that question lately to give her such an easy opportunity to get under my skin.

I need to talk to someone who won't turn this into one big emotional minefield of a conversation. My mind comes up with an answer, but I don't really want to accept that particular piece of advice. But I have to. I take a deep breath and start to walk in the opposite direction, feeling very unenthusiastic. _I can't believe I'm doing this._

I'm going to talk to Operations.

 

~*~

 

I lean back in my chair to peer up into Operations' office once more. Empty. I scowl up at his glass picture windows. _Why is it that the damn man is always peering over my shoulder every second of the day, and the moment I actually want to talk to him, he vanishes into thin air?_

I slouch down, putting my feet up on the chair next to me. _Might as well be comfortable._ God knows where he's gone. But he's still in Section and I'm not leaving here tonight until I've talked to him about Andrea, about what she tried to do to Michael.

The gravelly voice of the very person I'm waiting on is suddenly right behind me, making me jump. "Is anything wrong?"

Caught unawares, I'm not quite sure how to begin. I shake my head and try to sit up straight. I'm not looking very lady-like at the moment.

"No, I'm fine." I'm stalling, and I know it. _Just tell him!_

He walks closer to me, and with his next words saves me the trouble of how to broach the subject of Andrea.

"Andrea has been cancelled."

 _Well, shit._ I tilt my head back, letting it rest on the back on my chair so I can see him. His face is impassive, but not vindictive.

"So you knew she tried to kill Michael."

"Yes." He walks a little bit closer to me, his eyes on mine. "We were _disappointed,_ but not surprised." I watch him warily. There is a strange air of satisfaction about him.

"We arranged a test." His face hardens slightly. "She failed."

 _A test. We arranged a test._

"A test?" The words come out slightly rough through a suddenly dry throat.

Operations comes to stand in front of me, his pale eyes studying my face intently. "We knew she wasn't guilty of treason." I suck in my breath, not quite able to take in what I'm hearing. He continues on calmly, but I know that he's noticed my reaction. "But we _did_ suspect her of being emotionally unstable. Obviously, we were right."

I push myself up off the chair and get to my feet slowly, my legs feeling as though I've been kicked in the shins.

 _He tried to tell you. All those hints he threw out...and all you could see was that he was with another woman._

Michael's just been required to be the resident whore once again and all I did was sulk. _But why didn't he just tell me?_ I look at Operations almost smug smirk and I suddenly know the reason. He couldn't. Andrea wasn't the only person whose reactions were being studied.

Frustrated anger flares. _I'm so sick of this shit._ "So, were you testing me, too? See if I'd report what I knew?"

Operations smiles at me. "There was no need to. You'd have told us."

I hate it when he does this. So sure of himself and of my predictability. "How can you be so sure?"

"We've been watching you very closely, Nikita." Operations smiles at me knowingly. We look at each other, my unwanted conspirator and I. The spectre of Adrian is suddenly hanging heavily between us, the memory of my briefing with him yesterday morning sinking like a stone to the pit of my stomach.

"You're one of us now."

He says it so casually, and yet his words tear into me. Just as he knew they would. I'm doing his dirty work for him and he likes it. His pleasure in having this direct control over me is almost palpable.

Blinking away the unwanted angry tears that have welled up in my eyes at his words, I can't stop them from echoing hollowly inside my mind. _You're one of us now._

I watch him walk away, a sad bitterness creeping into my heart. _Gotta hand it to him...the man knows how to use a good parting shot._

 _Bullseye._

 

The secret to being a successful Valentine operative is the ability to separate your body from your mind, sex from love. It also helps if you're not desperately in love with someone else, but there are ways to make the flesh willing, even if the spirit is weak.

I quickly discover that Andrea approaches making love the same way she approaches profiling a delicate mission. No detail is overlooked. There is not an inch of my body that she doesn't caress, her small hands touching and molding my desire to her own design. She seeks to give pleasure as well as taking her own, almost methodical in her passion.

We make love slowly, in a hushed silence that is only broken by her soft sighs and my ragged breathing. A combination of weariness and sexual frustration only serves to heighten my senses, and I let my body lose itself in physical gratification.

Andrea cries out softly, her hands clutching my hips hard as I shudder against her. I look deep into her eyes, our breath mingling warmly between our lips, so close together. She returns my look, her gaze intense and yet remote, and I realise with a pang that she is still a stranger to me.

I pull the sheet up over our cooling bodies and watch Andrea doze, weariness etched on her pale face. Two missions back to back for an operative with no previous field experience will have tired her and I allowed her little sleep last night.

I try to sleep, but my mind is twisting and turning in a hundred different directions. I rub my gritty eyes, wishing I could force myself to embrace the luxury of sleep. _I'm so tired._ Dealing with Elena's questions about the business conferences that don't exist, running from the emotions that slam into me every time I see Nikita, and now making love to a virtual stranger.

As Andrea stirs and stretches beside me, I can't help but appreciate the irony of my situation. Many a man would envy me. In the last six months, I have made love to four beautiful women. If my life was my own, there is only one that I would have chosen to be with. Only one knows who I really am, and in my more hopeful moments I believe that she may actually love me in spite of that knowledge.

Andrea moves beside me and I feel her eyes on me. For the last few hours, I have been torn between relief that she is guilty of the treason with which she has been charged, and despising myself for it. I had grown to admire her, her single-mindedness. As yet I've seen no sign of a disturbed mind, only a rather lonely woman who doesn't quite know how to express the passion that I know is locked away deep inside her.

"Michael...anything wrong?"

I stare at the ceiling. _Yes, something is wrong. Your life depends on how you will react to my cruelty in a few hours. My innocent wife and child think that I'm at a conference in Madrid._ I close my eyes briefly as another face flashes in my mind. _And you are not the person that I want to be lying here with, holding in my arms._

"Everything's fine."

Andrea moves my hand from where it is resting on her hip and entwines her fingers through mine. Her palm is cool, her hand small and delicate. I watch our hands as she continues to touch and stroke my fingers. The silence between us lengthens awkwardly until she takes a deep breath.

"I think I could love you." I say nothing, but her choice of words intrigues me. So shuttered, so closed-off. _So like myself._

"It's Nikita, isn't it?"

My breath sticks in my suddenly dry throat and I have to force myself not to start at the sound of Nikita's name. I don't want to talk about her while lying in another woman's bed.

I keep my eyes on our entwined hands, my heart starting to hammer in my chest as I dance around the question. "What do you mean?"

"You had a relationship with her." She hesitates, as if suddenly unsure of her facts. "At least, that's what people say. Is it true?"

I don't even want to think about the many and varied things that people say about Nikita and myself. Gossip abounds in any workplace and Section is no exception. Sighing silently, I realize that there is no point in denying what Andrea obviously already knows.

"Yes." Even this small admission feels like a betrayal.

"Did you love her?" Andrea is quietly insistent.

 _Yes. More than she will ever know or understand._

I keep my churning thoughts to myself, and try to put her off. "Does that matter?"

"It does to me."

I turn my head and finally meet her eyes.

"Yes, I loved her." As bizarre as the circumstances are, I can't quite believe the sense of relief of saying the words out loud. Admitting to another person what I've had to keep hidden deep inside myself for nearly four long years.

"And now?"

 _I still love her._

I curl a hand around her face, hoping to distract her from what I know will be an evasive answer. "Now there's you."

I haven't answered her question at all, but she doesn't seem to notice. She presses a kiss to my palm, her free hand tracing gentle circles on my chest. I watch her touch me, but I feel disconnected, my body responding automatically to her touch but my mind watching from a great distance.

I'm a fool. I should have never let Andrea talk about Nikita, let alone confess to having loved her. Now my body is being buffeted by burning memories of making love to a totally different woman to the one I'm holding in my arms.

Desperately needing to clear my mind of Nikita, I roll over onto my side and run my hand up Andrea's smooth thigh, hooking a leg over hers to bring her hips flush against mine. She gasps softly and wraps her arms around my neck, her lips seeking mine. I roll again and she is lying beneath me, her warmth clutching at my hardening body. Valentine training will always take over when the heart rebels. I take her again, finding no solace in either her release or mine, her soft cries of pleasure tearing strips off a heart already torn in two.

~*~*~*~*~

4:30 am. _Ten minutes since you last checked the time, Nikita._ I roll over and punch my pillow hard, but it doesn't help. I have dozed on and off, but every time I closed my eyes all night, all I could see was Michael and Andrea dancing. I bite my lip as I think of how he touched her, held her close. God, his hands were all over her. Angry with myself I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I need to get up and get dressed before I can change my mind. It's way too early to be going to Section, but if I don't get out of this apartment, I'm going to go mad.

I start the coffee maker and take a hot shower, willing myself to stop thinking of the mission yesterday. Mixed in with the jealousy I can no longer deny is a health dose of guilty conscience.

I stare unseeing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I have no right to feel lied to or hard done by as far as Michael is concerned. I'm keeping so many secrets from him at the moment I can hardly remember my own name sometimes. Every time I see Michael, I have to fight the overwhelming urge to tell him what is going on in my life.

I want to tell him how Operations came to my apartment three months ago and told me all about a woman called Adrian, and how he needed me to help bring her down, that between the two of us, we were going to save Section. I want to throw myself into his arms and blurt it all out, how I am going to have to lie to him, to use him in order to achieve Section's goal.

But I never do. Another conversation is seared into my mind, into my heart.

 _"I'm not sure I care about saving Section."_

He only smiles at me, his pale eyes watching me intently. "But you do care about the lives of the hundreds of thousands of innocents who will die if Section is no longer there to protect them...don't you?"

He had me there, and he knew it. Annoyed at being outmanoeuvred and not willing to give in so easily, I try one last line of resistance. "I don't even know this woman. Is she really the terrible threat that you're making her out to be? How do I know that you're telling me the truth?"

Operations smirks, his mouth curving with genuine amusement. "You're just going to have to trust me." I look at him and smile cynically, trying hard not to picture him as a used car salesman. "I don't think I can do that."

His face hardens, any trace of humour vanishing before my eyes. "I think you will."

I start to towel dry my hair roughly, helpless anger seeping through me yet again as I think of Operations' bargaining tool. _Michael._

Operations dangled Michael's life in front of me and told me that I _would_ do as he asked. My total compliance in exchange for Michael's safety. When I look back now, I find it hard to believe that I fell for it so quickly... _did I really believe that Operations would cancel his best operative in order to call me to heel?_ I dismiss the thought as soon as it enters my head. Threatening Michael was the quickest way to get me to do what he wanted, and he and I both knew it.

So now I'm living this bizarre double life, living in a state of suspended animation until Adrian makes the first move, unable to talk about it with my closest friends, and the man whose life I'm trying to protect is, at the moment, acting as though I don't exist. Needless to say, I'm not having the best couple of months of my life.

Irritated with myself for letting it all get to me, I start to slam drawers, pulling clothes out, happy with nothing I see. There's nothing like seeing the man you... _god, you can't even say it when you're alone, can you?_ I grit my teeth and fling more clothes onto my bed. Nothing like seeing the man you...want with someone else to make you feel like the most unattractive hag in the world. I sift through a mountain of black clothes before I find what I'm looking for.

It's a fitted long sleeved black top, with a plunging neckline that always makes me feel pretty damn fine. I grab a push up bra out of my top drawer and get dressed quickly. As I start to brush my hair, planning to leave it down, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. _What am I doing? Just what am I trying to prove here?_ I shake my head, more than a little impatient with myself. I put down the brush, pull my hair back into a haphazard knot and leave my face bare. _The top can stay._ I take another look in the mirror and defiantly tug the shirt down to show a bit more skin. _The push up bra can stay too._ Despite everything, I manage a smirk at my reflection before I head downstairs to have my coffee.

More to distract myself than anything else, I let my mind wander to Walter as I have breakfast. Why did Madeline ask me about him? _Must be something serious if she's asking my opinion._

I frown, feeling more than slightly guilty. I've been so caught up in my own problems lately that I haven't _really_ talked to Walter for a few days. We've had the usual chit-chat...he complains that I'm not wearing my skirts short enough these days. I invite him to go shopping with me to the local rubber and leatherwear store. He blushes and tells me to get out of there. But it's not _talking._ Not really. I check my watch. He should be in Section by now. Perhaps it's time for Walter and I to have a little talk.

~*~*~*~*~

I start to take my usual route through Section, but stop myself. Do I really want to go past Michael's office, only to find that it's in darkness because his normal routine has been...disrupted? He's usually here by now, but it _is_ only five-thirty in the morning. If he's not there, then he must be...I take a deep breath. _Stop it. You are getting ridiculous about this._

I keep walking. As I round the corner, the sight of Michael's darkened office greets me. I walk past quickly, but not before my breath tightens in my chest, jealousy seeping hotly through every fibre of my body. My skin feels overheated, irritable. I keep walking towards Munitions, feeling more miserable than I have been in a long time.

Just before I reach Walter's workstation, I stop. I want to talk to him calmly about anything that's bothering him and I can't do that if I'm crying all over him. After a few deep breaths, I feel a little bit more under control, and manage stroll into Munitions as though I haven't a care in the world. Walter's lurking in the ammunition shelves, but I only have to wait a few moments before he appears. "Hey, Walter." He looks at me distractedly.

"So, what's going on with you?"

Walter gives me a small smile, nothing like the usual beaming leer that greets me every day.

"Nothing much." He walks away and starts to mess around with some equipment on the other side of the bench, obviously hoping that I'll just go away. _Nice try Walter, but I don't give up that easy!_ A pang of tenderness clutches at my heart as I study his back. His shoulders are rigid with tension, his head bowed. I walk over to where he is fidgeting aimlessly with some old comm. units and stand in front of him, where he can't ignore me.

"That's not what I've heard."

He meets my eyes and I'm shocked to see how tired he looks. He sighs heavily and sits down at his workstation.

"Operations wants me to lie to Oversight."

Confused, I can only stare at him. This is the first I've heard about this. "Lie about what?"

"What difference does it make?" The uncaring tone in his voice sends a flurry of panic through me.

He starts working again, not wanting to talk about it. I don't care. I already feel as though I've lost Michael. I can't lose Walter too. I move slowly over to him, desperately needing to bring him out of this terrible funk that he's sunk into.

"The difference between life and death."

Such dramatic words from me, and I'm not really surprised when Walter looks at me with wide eyes, as if he can't quite believe that I've said them. We contemplate each other for a few seconds before he looks away.

"You, of all people, are telling me to _lie_?"

I ignore the inner turmoil that his question stirs up and lean closer to him.

"No. I'm telling you to survive." Walter barks out a humourless laugh and shakes his head at me.

"Well, I'm really not interested in surviving any more...what I _am_ interested in is living. That's where the real difference is." He stops suddenly, and I know that we're both thinking of the same person. _Belinda._ I feel the tears building behind my eyes as I look at his sad face, a face that's seen way too much pain and misery. He sniffs and looks at me, almost embarrassed by his emotion. "Oh, hell. I've been hanging around this place too long already."

 _He's giving up._ The same feeling of panic takes hold of me. _I can't let him do this._ A more selfish thought makes itself heard. _I can't live this life by myself._

I snake an arm around his neck and pull him close to me. His forehead is resting against my face, his bandana silky on my skin. A little overwhelmed by the strength of my feelings for this wonderful man, I can only whisper to him.

"Walter. "

"Hmmm?"

"Don't talk like that again." I feel close to tears, unable to say any more.

I feel him smile, his soft sigh brushing my face before he shakes his head slightly.

"It's just like I've always said. You're one of the good ones." He puts an arm around my back and squeezes me tight. "Don't change." I hug him harder, hoping that I won't dissolve into tears and embarrass us both.

The loud beep of his intercom makes me jump and my heart starts to race in nervous anticipation as Madeline's voice floats quietly into the room.

"Walter."

I pull my arm away from Walter's neck, suddenly aware I'm hugging him so tightly that he probably doesn't have the breath to speak. He looks towards the intercom and takes a deep breath, as if to steady his nerves.

"Right here."

"I would like to meet with you."

Walter gets up slowly, and I can feel the tension coming off him in waves. He clears his throat, and replies as breezily as he can.

"Sure thing. In your office?"

Madeline's disembodied voice is calm. "No. In the White Room."

My stomach flips over. _The White Room?_ I look at Walter, shocked. He swallows hard before answering. "Okay."

We both unconsciously hold our breath while we wait for the intercom to click off. Walter doesn't say anything, but his face is pale.

"Walter?"

"It's okay, Sugar." He grins weakly at me. "Whatever they can dish out, I can handle." He puffs out his chest in an exaggerated pose, but he's not fooling me. I saw the flash of fear in his eyes when Madeline said to meet her in the White Room. We look at each other for a long minute and I reach out to clutch his hand in mine. He gives me a too bright smile and gently disentangles his hand from mine, before walking slowly out of Munitions. I watch him leave and my heart aches for him. _And for me._

~*~*~*~*~

"You wanted to see me?"

Madeline and Operations are standing together in Operations' office, talking quietly. They turn at the sound of my voice. Operations takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly before looking at me intently.

"Yes. It's about Andrea Karsov."

"Yes?"

Madeline smiles at me. "Have you slept with her?"

I wince inwardly. Her question is hardly unexpected, but the malicious enjoyment in her voice still stings my conscience.

"Yes."

"When?"

I try not to betray the fact that I'm finding this conversation distasteful, but it's difficult.

"Last night."

Madeline throws Operations an almost triumphant look that I ignore. I can only imagine the discussions that they have had about this matter in private.

Madeline walks slowly towards me. "Seeing as you and Andrea had sex for the first time last night..." She pauses, raising an eyebrow at me, an unspoken question. I say nothing but my silence only seems to answer her question. "Rejecting her now will have the optimal effect on her psychological state, coming so soon after your encounter." She smiles at me slightly, her eyes dark and unemotional. "I would suggest that you be as brutal about it as you can manage."

Acid sticking to the back of my throat, I nod curtly at her and start to walk away. Operations' terse voice calls me back.

"Whatever it is you need to do to push her over the edge...do it now, Michael. We need this matter resolved _now_."

I couldn't agree more.

"Of course."

I leave Operations' office with a weary sense of déjà vu. _How many times have I gone through these motions, seducing and then callously discarding in the name of Section?_ I walk swiftly through Section, resentment simmering as unwanted memories flood my mind, a final bitter question assaulting my conscience. _How many more times will I have to destroy another human being, all for the good of the Section?_

Walking past Munitions, my heart lurches as I catch sight of Nikita. She is talking to Walter, so wrapped up in what looks to be a very intense discussion that she doesn't see me. _What is she doing here?_ Her schedule indicated that she isn't required until late this afternoon. I frown as I realise why her being in Section has disturbed me so much. _I don't want to her see what I'm about to do to Andrea._

I stop abruptly outside the entrance to Comm, my mind churning. _Has it come to this, that I am so concerned about Nikita's opinion of me that it has started to affect my ability to perform my required tasks?_ There's really no need to seek an answer for my own question, not with the aching certainty that is sinking like stone to the pit of my stomach.

I walk slowly through to Comm, catching sight of Andrea immediately. She is standing at her workstation, totally focused on her work. As I walk towards her, I scan the immediate area. It's still very early and we're relatively alone. Most importantly, Nikita is nowhere to be seen.

Andrea turns and smiles, happy to see me. "Hi."

I look at her smiling face and want to walk away. Most of the targets for Valentine missions are innocents, people in the wrong place at the wrong time. For the Valentine operative, there is always a certain degree of guilt involved, both during the mission and afterwards. This is going to be no exception.

I don't return her greeting or her smile. "Do you have the security workup?"

Her smile falters slightly at my lack of response, but she doesn't hesitate to reply. "Yes. They have an unusual package. Heartbeat I.D."

"We'll need one other person with the appropriate clearance. "

She takes a step towards me, wordlessly inviting me to move closer to her. "We already have him. We'll imprint his EKG on the digital patch."

I stand motionless and look into her eyes, letting the warmth drain from my expression. "Good, let me see the lab."

Andrea nods and heads back to her workstation, quickly bringing up a detailed floor plan of the laboratory. I stand behind her chair, close enough to read the screen, but not to touch her.

"Make sure the secondary egress has adequate coverage."

She hastens to reassure me, confident in her abilities. "I will."

I turn to walk away slowly, knowing that the conversation is far from over, waiting only for her to make the next move.

Andrea leans back as though stretching stiff muscles, her head tilted back to look at me. "I'll be finished here in an hour. Get something to eat?"

I meet her eyes briefly, unemotionally before turning to walk away. "I'm busy."

My abrupt answer only prompts another invitation. "How about later?"

I sigh silently. The subtle approach is obviously not going to work here. I'm going to have to spell it out brutally. I have been cold and distant, and Andrea has yet to notice a change in my manner towards her. A sudden thought flares to life. _I have grown too used to Nikita._

"It's a bad time right now." The well worn cliché rolls off my tongue effortlessly.

She frowns as my choice of words hits home. "What do you mean?"

I stare at her briefly before replying, my tone dismissive. "Just what I said."

Andrea hesitates before rising out of her chair, confusion warring with anxiety in her eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

I answer carelessly without meeting her eyes. "It's nobody's fault. Some things are not meant to be."

Andrea's face flushes with a combination of hurt and embarrassment. She swallows hard and looks around anxiously, suddenly realising that this is not a conversation that should have an audience.

She takes a deep breath, her body rigid with tension. Her eyes lock onto mine in mute appeal. "Let's at least talk about it?"

I return Andrea's gaze impassively, watching the blood drain from her face at my parting words.

"We have."

I turn my back on her and walk away, knowing that I've carried out my duties as required, that what I've just done is for the good of the Section, that Andrea is not an innocent. I tell myself all this as I walk away from her, but the hollow feeling of self-loathing that always follows a betrayal has me in its familiar grip.

I walk quickly through Section. The need to make myself scarce in order to thwart any attempt on Andrea's part to seek me out is one reason. I grit my teeth and stride faster towards the ground level exit as I reluctantly acknowledge the other reason. I don't want to see Nikita, couldn't bear to look at her after what I've just done...can't bear to meet her eyes, knowing the chain of events that I've just put in motion.

I close my eyes briefly and send up a silent prayer that Nikita can survive the ordeal that she is about to unknowingly stumble into...and that we both can survive its fallout.

~*~*~*~*~

The knock on my door is loud and urgent. It's not Michael's. I catch myself, feeling slightly embarrassed. _How sad is that? I know how Michael's knock sounds._

I frown, irritated. I have been trying to find the time to work through this new yoga routine for a week now. It's supposed to promote calm and soothe a stressed mind. _Definitely just what I need at the moment._

After my chat with Walter, I hightailed it out of Section. I didn't have to be there for another eight hours, and I didn't feel like running into Michael and Andrea. So I came home, tidied my apartment with a vengeance and had a long bath before pulling on my work out gear. I have no idea who is knocking on my door, but maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away.

No such luck. The knock continues, louder this time. Admitting defeat, I take a few controlled breaths and slowly get to my feet, reluctant to part with what small sense of peace I have managed to find in the last hour.

It's Andrea.

"Hey."

She says nothing, just rakes me up and down with that pale cool stare of hers before brushing past me abruptly.

 _Nice manners._ Perhaps a few weeks deportment training with Madeline wouldn't go astray. Realising that my uninvited guest has no intention of leaving any time soon, I shut the door with a faint clunk before turning slowly to face her.

My simmering resentment towards this woman finds a temporary escape in my usual outlet of sarcasm. "Come in."

"Is he here?" She is nervous, agitated. _Jeez, she's making me tense just watching her._

I have a pretty good idea who she means, but I stall anyway. _What is she doing here?_

"Who?"

"You know who. Michael."

Her question causes a prickle of sadness deep inside me as I think of how long it's been since Michael actually has been here. I turn away from her, not really wanting to talk about Michael with this woman.

"No. He's not here." I'm trying to work out exactly what is going on, but I'm distracted by my stubbornly foolish thoughts. _Why would she look for Michael here? What has he told her about me to make her believe that he would be with me?_

I have the sudden feeling that I should be sitting down for this one. Brushing past the very angry woman standing in my living room, I take a seat on the couch, fighting the urge to curl up like a kid. The vibes coming from Andrea are making me feel very uncomfortable. _She_ makes me uncomfortable.

"He won't see me any more. One minute everything was wonderful, the next...he was cold. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

I'm almost ashamed of the little surge of ridiculous hope that flutters in my heart. _He doesn't want anything to do with her._ Resisting the urge to gloat, I study Andrea's pale face.

"Did he say why?" I cringe at my rather obvious question, but my heart still pounds in my throat as I wait for her answer.

"No."

She looks me straight in the face and what I see at the back of her eyes sends a shiver up my back. There is a bleak emptiness there, a _nothingness_ that doesn't sit right with her passionate words.

"What's going on?"

I just look at her, feeling as though my mind is racing at a million miles an hour. Something is not right here. I mean, Michael can be cold and heartless but this is just not him. He's not given to spontaneous sex. It takes him forever to make a decision about that sort of thing. _And I should know._

"I don't know." It's the truth. I have no idea what Michael is doing. _But I certainly intend to find out._ I suddenly feel angry with Andrea for dragging me into this. I know that she's heard the Section gossip. Even if the facts _were_ slightly exaggerated, surely she must realise that I'm the last person she should be talking to about Michael. It dawns on me as I look at her, every line in her body stiffened by anger, that even if she did realise that I'm uncomfortable, she wouldn't care.

Andrea keeps pacing up and down. She seems so calm, but she's not. There is a brittle anger in her words, her face. So tightly coiled that she might snap at any moment. I shift uncomfortably on the sofa as I watch her.

"Did he get through to me just to prove he could? Is he that much of a monster?" Andrea stops pacing, staring at me intently. I lean back in my seat, startled by the hate I see in her eyes, but my temper flares at her questions. _Don't you dare to presume that you know him after only a few days._

"Is that what he did to you?"

I stare at her, the blood seeming to roar through my veins, my heart pounding wildly. Angry with her for forcing me to answer questions that I don't want to face, I look away, trying to think of an answer that will satisfy her.

 _No...that's not what he did to me._ Memories sear my soul. _I can't begin to tell you what he did to me, what we've done to each other._ I look around my apartment, a dull ache clenching my heart as I think of the last time that Michael _was_ here. He was afraid, confused, his mind a blank canvas. And yet...he _knew_ me, knew instinctively that there was something more than friendship between us. _Oh god._ He asked me to dance, held me close in his arms and then thanked me for it. The Michael I always dreamed about, the one who could tell me that he loved me and mean it. The Michael I knew then that I could never keep, the man I had to destroy so that he could live.

I look back at Andrea, waiting, her face pale with rage.

~*~*~*~*~

I hold my breath as I wait for Nikita's answer, thankful that I had the foresight to handle the audio surveillance on the apartment alone.

I returned to Section only after a call to Madeline assured me that Andrea had walked out. Before she left, she apparently approached Birkoff, demanding that he give her my home address. Shuddering inwardly at the possible ramifications of _that_ scenario, I asked Madeline to ensure that Birkoff was taken off my team for the next mission.

My intentions were threefold. Birkoff could direct all his attentions to the Bahrain situation. He would not have any further contact with Andrea, making it difficult for her to express her anger, in any shape or form, over his refusal to help her. Finally, it would necessitate Andrea taking over the Comm position. If she was going to take any action against me, it would provide the perfect opportunity.

I increase the volume on my comm unit, making a mental note to erase this recording before it can be entered into the system

Nikita's tone becomes placating, with more than a hint of impatience. "Andrea ..."

"It's not right!" Andrea's voice grows louder, angrier. "It's just not right!"

There is a brief silence. I hear Nikita's familiar sigh, before her softly spoken words proceed to pierce the brittle shell around my heart.

"I don't pretend to understand him, but...he lost someone a while ago. It scarred him." I close my eyes and let her words, full of caring and empathy, wash over me. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing.

I hear Nikita sigh again before going on, the sadness in her voice obvious. "He might not want to get too close again."

I turn up the volume on my comm. unit again with a suddenly unsteady hand, wishing desperately that I could see Nikita's face as she spoke. The video surveillance in her apartment has been shorting out for the last week, although I have more than a sneaking suspicion that Nikita has been doing a bit of "home maintenance." No other operative has her knack of finding Section's hidden cameras so quickly.

"You're making excuses for him."

Andrea is quite right. Nikita _is_ making excuses for me. But the words that she spoke seemed to come from her heart, as though it was a conclusion that she had already come to herself. The all too familiar sense of regret and guilt twists my gut.

I hear Nikita clear her throat then, her next words confirming my painful thoughts.

"I don't think so. I'm just being realistic." She sounds almost weary, and the pained resignation that I hear in her voice clutches at my heart.

It's as though Andrea's is no longer listening to Nikita. "He can't do this."

Nikita doesn't reply.

"We can't let him get away with it." Although Andrea sounds strangely calm I can tell by the growing wariness in Nikita's voice that she is far from it.

"What does that mean?

"I mean, we have to _do_ something." Andrea's voice is fading in and out, as though she is moving around the apartment. Nikita sounds as though she has reached the end of her patience with this particular conversation. "Such as...?"

 _Enough of this._ I dial Nikita's cell number, hearing its ring echo eerily in my comm unit. I pull the unit out of my ear as I wait for her to answer the phone.

"Hello?" She sounds slightly rattled.

I take a deep breath, her words to Andrea in my defence lingering in my mind. "Josephine."

There is a brief silence before she answers with her standard "I have someone in my apartment" voice.

"Yep?" _Very cheery._

"Come in."

She hangs up with a loud click, and I reach for my comm. unit, quickly putting it back in my ear. I hear footsteps going towards Nikita's front door. "Look, Andrea..."

"I don't understand you. He obviously did the same thing to you. Why do you let him get away with it?"

"It's not as simple as that." I hope that I am simply being paranoid, but Nikita sounds as though she's starting to wonder the same thing herself.

"Fine." The front door is wrenched open, hard. "I feel sorry for you, letting him have that power over you. But I don't intend to let him make a fool out of _me._ " With that parting shot, Andrea appears to be gone.

The sound of the door slamming is so loud it almost causes feedback static in my comm. unit. Wincing, I turn the sound down, but not before I hear Nikita's reaction to her visitor.

"Well. What the _hell_ was _that_?"

~*~*~*~*~

"You wanted to see me?"

Michael looks up at me. He looks drawn. "Sit down."

I slouch in his spare chair, butterflies churning in my stomach. Andrea's words are still ringing in my ears and being here with Michael now is having a bad effect on my nerves. His next words send the butterflies into hysterics.

"Andrea came to your apartment today." Shocked, I can only sit and look at him blankly. Unperturbed, he continues. "Why?"

 _What the...?_ I don't know what's going on here, but I am definitely going to find out. I give him a blank stare of my own. "You seem to have all the answers already, Michael. Why don't you tell me?"

"I'm asking _you._ "

 _Too weird._ I hesitate, trying to think of the nicest way to phrase what I want to say.

"She's not very happy with you at the moment. She thought that you might be with me." I watch his impassive face and dare to ask the question that has been niggling at me. "Why would she think that?"

Michael ignores my question, just keeps looking at me with those shuttered eyes that give away nothing. I sigh and start to drum my fingers on the top of his desk nervously.

"She basically asked me if I knew what was going on with you."

He tilts his head to one side, eyes never leaving mine. "And what did you say?"

This is so awkward. _I don't want to sit here, discussing his little fling with him._ I catch myself, something suddenly clicking into place in my head.

Michael is cold and ruthless with me when he has to be, mostly to save my sorry life. But he has never been intentionally cruel. The only times Michael has treated me callously is when Section demanded it. Suspicion is slowly becoming certainty in my mind. If this affair was the real deal, there is _no way_ he would sit here discussing it with me, let alone asking me questions about it. I'm pretty sure that he would find that distasteful. It wouldn't be the polite thing to do.

 _Curiouser and curiouser._ So why _are_ we sitting here, discussing this?

I take a deep breath and smile innocently at him. "I told her that I had no idea." He says nothing. "What is going on? Don't tell me you just decided that you needed someone to sleep with. That's not your style." An uncontrollable urge to goad him takes hold of my tongue. "Besides, you could always just ask for a nice little valentine mission if that was the problem..."

Michael looks away, but not before I manage to see his reaction to my words. Some dark emotion flared in his eyes when I said the words _valentine mission._ Leaning forward I put my elbows on the top of his desk, fighting the urge to grab him by the collar and shake it out of him.

"What's...going...on?"

Michael looks through the blinds hanging at his window, at the wall behind me, and finally at me. I stare at him, searching his face, his eyes, desperate to see what he's not telling me.

He slowly gets up from his chair and walks around to stand next to me. I stare straight ahead, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. I get to my feet slowly, turning around until I'm looking him right in the face. Then I see it, a flash of mute appeal so fleeting that I immediately think that I must have imagined it. It's almost as though I blinked and it was gone, his usual inscrutable gaze firmly back in place.

"The briefing's in ten minutes. Let's go."

Michael reaches out and opens his office door before stepping back, waiting for me to leave first. I brush past him, my mind racing almost as fast as my heart.

The only time I have been more uncomfortable at a briefing was the time I had to suffer being in the same room as that creep David Fanning. The rumour mill has obviously been working overtime today. I can feel the glances from the other guys on the team when they think I'm not looking. I can see them darting looks at Michael and Andrea too. _The gossipmongers must be having a field day._

Michael stands at the head of the table. I try to keep my eyes on him, not wanting to catch Andrea's eye. I listen to his voice, trying to zone out all the distractions.

"I'll handle demolition. Nikita will ensure egress. Since Birkoff is working on the Bahrain Mission, Andrea will provide tactical. Any questions?"

Andrea tilts her head to regard Michael coolly. "I have a question." The tone of her voice sets off the alarm bells in my head. _Not good._ And _this_ is the woman who will be responsible for our lives in a few hours. I sit transfixed as she goes on, her voice low and even.

"Who the hell do you think you are, treating me like this?"

 _Shit._ This is definitely not good. I glance quickly around the table at the other members of our team and almost smile. Every single one of them is on their feet and getting the hell outta Dodge.

 _Good idea._ I push back my chair, and start to stand up, trying not to catch the eye of either of the two people in front of me. Andrea's gaze snaps around, pinning me in my seat.

"Nikita, stay. This concerns you, too."

~*~*~*~*~

Nikita sits back down with a dull thud, before slouching in her chair as though trying to disappear into its depths.

I suppress a sigh and turn to look at Andrea. Emotionally unstable she may be, but she is also predictable, according to her psyche profile. I can only assume that she wants to embarrass me by having this conversation in front of Nikita. Any lingering sympathy I may have felt for this woman is rapidly dissolving in the face of Nikita's obvious discomfort.

Andrea stares up at me, her face finely drawn with tension. "You toyed with me like a cat with a mouse. I won't tolerate it."

"I didn't toy with you." A useless denial and I can see by the spark of fury in Andrea's eyes that she knows it too.

To the casual observer, it would appear as though Andrea has ambushed me with this scene, but the answers to her predictable questions have been carefully planned, meticulously calculated to push her closer and closer to the edge of her emotional boundaries.

"Then what were you doing?" Her voice is still calm, but I can hear the resentment simmering beneath her even tone.

I meet her intense gaze with indifference. "Investigating."

"Investigating what?"

"You." My monosyllabic answers are only serving to infuriate her further.

"Why?" Andrea looks at me in confusion.

"You were suspected of leaking intel to Red Cell. I needed access to your personal files." Nikita, who is peering at Andrea from underneath her veil of blonde hair, gives a slight start of surprise at this.

"I've never leaked intel to anybody." For a split second, guilt silences me. Andrea's quite right to defend herself. She has never been guilty of leaking intel. I look at her pale face, and remember that this woman has the deaths of four section operatives on her hands, and she killed them without remorse, without reason.

I force myself to meet her eyes, keeping my expression bland. "I know that. The suspicions were unfounded."

Andrea takes a deep breath, a sharp hiss of air in the too quiet room. "Then you never cared for me at all?"

~*~*~*~*~

God, I wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. _If this is how a fly on the wall feels, the flies can keep it._ As much as I dislike the girl, I feel so sorry for her. I bow my head, not wanting to look at either of them.

"I respect you as a colleague."

 _Oh...nice one, Michael...just what a girl wants to hear after she's been made love to._ I shake my head, feeling perversely amused in spite of the situation. He's almost outdone himself. _At least he didn't tell her to get over it._

"I see." The icy tone of her voice tells me that she does indeed see. "Investigation's over now?"

"Yes. You've been cleared."

The air between them is fairly crackling with tension, but it's not a sensual charge any more. The air of erotic intent that Michael was projecting towards Andrea has vanished, completely dissolved, leaving behind nothing but cool disinterest. _How the hell does he do it? Hollywood has missed a great romantic lead in you, Michael. I'm sure you could convince any audience of your undying passion for your leading lady._ I glance quickly at Andrea. Judging by the look on her face, she doesn't appreciate his acting prowess.

Her face tight with quiet fury, she nods her head at Michael and stands up. As she is walking away, Michael calls out softly after her.

"I'm sorry."

Andrea whirls around and glares at him, her whole body rigid with anger. My breath catches in my throat when I see the look on her face. The hatred burning in her eyes as she stares at Michael sends a shocked chill down my back, her earlier declaration ringing in my ears.

 _We can't let him get away with this...we have to do something._

She turns on her heel and leaves the room quickly. Silence. I look down, feeling slightly awkward now that only Michael and I are left in the room. There is an oddly strained pause before he speaks and I can tell from the direction of his voice that he isn't looking at me either.

"The Mission begins in an hour. Better get ready."

He doesn't have to tell me twice ~ I can't wait to get out of here. I nod, and push myself up from the chair, letting out my breath in a relieved sigh. _That little scene was a little too intense for me._

I leave the room in indecent haste, spending the next hour dressing and collecting my equipment from Walter. Michael joins me in Munitions but apart from a short discussion with Walter about the heartbeat ID he will be wearing, he says nothing. I can't think of anything to say to him either so I just end up following him when he leaves Walter's workstation and heads towards van access.

Realising that I'm about to lose my last opportunity to speak to him alone, I take a deep breath and plunge right on in. I pull on my gloves as I speak, trying to give my restless hands something to do.

"Have you spoken to Andrea since the briefing?"

He keeps walking and answers me without turning around. "No."

We're now just outside the door to van access and I stop in my tracks and stare at him. "Maybe you should."

Michael stops walking. It's a start, but he still won't look at me.

"She's more than just angry, Michael." He says nothing and I start to get angry with him. Frustrated that he's not more concerned about his safety, hurt that he won't talk to me about this. I try again. "She's _dangerous._ "

He finally turns to look at me, seemingly unconcerned. "What can she do?"

I can only shake my head at him, fighting the urge to reach out and put my hand on his arm. That odd sense of approaching danger, the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong is so strong that I almost feel sick in the stomach. He waits patiently for my answer but I hardly know what to say.

"I'm not sure. Just be careful."

Michael only looks at me calmly, his eyes flicking over my face intently before he turns and heads through the van access door. I follow him slowly, silently mulling over his words. As far as he's concerned, the discussion is over. I think of the look in Andrea's eyes when Michael told her that he was sorry and an almost violent shiver skitters down my spine. I can't just let this go.

~*~*~*~*~

"Michael." The quiet desperation in her voice stops me and I turn to look at her. Worry is etched into her fine features, almost as though she's afraid for me.

Scanning the area, I realize that we're still waiting on two team members. For the moment, we're alone. I look into her eyes and find I can no longer hold my tongue in the face of her distress.

I choose my words carefully but I still have to look away, not wanting to see her reaction. "Section is evaluating her." I hear her sudden intake of breath and force myself to meet her eyes.

She's staring at me, my words hanging heavily between us.

"Evaluating her? Why?" She looks around quickly, as if to check for any curious ears and eyes. Her shocked gaze moves back to rest on my face. "What sort of an evaluation could possibly involve forcing you to sleep with her?" Nikita flushes as soon as she finishes speaking and looks away in embarrassment.

"Nikita." She takes a deep breath and meets my eyes again, and I'm taken aback by the empathy in her gaze. We look at each other for a long moment. My heart starts to pound unsteadily as I finally let myself believe what I see in her face. _Sympathy...not anger._ The sudden relief that surges through me makes me reckless and I find myself saying more than I planned to. "I need you to stay focused. If something off-profile happens on site, I have to be able to depend on you."

"If something happens?" She repeats my words slowly, confusion flashing in her eyes. "Michael, what's going on?"

I've told her too much already. Angry with myself, my reply is more abrupt than I intended it to be.

"Just what I said."

Nikita blinks at me then, a look of hurt flickering across her face before she turns on her heel and walks past me into the waiting transport. I sigh quietly and wait until Hobson and Blacker appear before joining her, not wanting to have to be alone with her, feeling the gulf between us stretching wider and wider.

The journey to the laboratory is a silent one. Nikita studiously avoids my gaze. She sits with her arms folded, staring either at the ceiling or straight ahead. She looks as though she is a million miles away, her thoughts whirring furiously and my heart aches for all the things I cannot tell her.

As usual, any tension between us dissolves the moment we leave the transport and take our assigned positions. I watch Nikita surreptitiously as she checks her weapon, appreciating the irony of the situation. Communication in the field, even under life threatening circumstances, has never been the problem.

I turn away from her as a large delivery van rumbles past us and proceeds to drive up to the loading bay. Our arrival has been timed to the second to coincide with the delivery of canisters of the virus. The mission profile is simple. We go in, we set the detonator, we get out.

Nikita and I exchange a long look. _Time to move._

~*~*~*~

Resistance is minimal, the lab technicians ill-prepared for an armed assault. I take down three of them inside the laboratory, leaving Nikita to guard the entrance to the long corridor.

The outer door to the safe is not secured. I move through it into a small atrium, my eyes searching for the security locks that protect the actual safe. I quickly punch the secondary code into the keypad lock and stand motionless, hardly breathing as the primary security system takes over, scanning the ID clipped to my jacket. After a few agonising seconds the locked door to the inner safe swings open. I let out my breath, relieved. Andrea had ample opportunity to tamper with the heartbeat ID patch before the mission and I had prepared myself for the possibility that it was not going to work.

I move through to the safe itself and start to prepare the detonator for placement as I report to Comm. "I'm in."

There's no reply from Andrea. A frisson of apprehension shoots through me. I ignore my growing unease and open the case of the detonator, punching in the codes quickly before attaching it to the main supporting column. It locks into place with a loud click, and the countdown begins, the red flashing numbers glowing in the dimly lit room.

It's done. I turn and start to walk through to the outer safe when the door suddenly slams shut in my face and alarms start to wail incessantly.

My heart leaps into my throat. _The failsafe._

"Andrea, what's happening?"

"I'm locked in." No response. "Andrea...Andrea!" There is no answer, only a dead silence that sends a cold flutter of realisation twisting through me.

I look around me. There's no way out. The timer is flashing insistently, mercilessly counting down the seconds. One minute and forty-eight seconds.

 _My god. She actually went through with it._

~*~*~*~*~

Just as I am thinking that my legs have gone to sleep from crouching behind this cart, my comm. unit suddenly crackles into life.

"Nikita, I need your help." It's Michael. His usually calm voice is roughened by what almost feels like panic. I can't remember the last time I heard that tone in his voice and fear tightens my chest.

I stand up slowly, trying to look everywhere at once. The loud footsteps coming towards me seem to find an echo in the banging of my heart against my ribs. Feeling as though I'm moving on automatic pilot, I drop my body back down behind the trolley just as two security guards tear past me at top speed. _What has happened to Michael?_ I can't stay here. God knows how many more guards are right behind these two. If he needs my help, I'm no good to him if I'm hiding behind this damn cart.

The guards are several metres past my position. _Now or never._ I dash out from behind the trolley, trying to take them out before they can even turn around. It works. Letting out the breath that I'm holding, I take off in the direction of the safe, towards Michael. The sound of running feet is suddenly behind me again, and I whirl around, firing wildly at the security guard who is coming around the corner. He hardly has time to draw his weapon before my shot hits him.

Heart racing, I reach the safe. At first my mind can't take in what I am seeing. The thick outer door to the safe is wide open and there is no sign of Michael. He needed my help, he said. _Where the hell is he?_ I take two steps through the outer safe doors and I have my answer.

 _Oh my god. Michael._

~*~*~*~*~

Nikita's concerned face suddenly appears in the window of the locked inner door, her eyes filling with fear as the situation becomes horrifically clear to her. I try to stay calm, but if we can't open this door within twenty-five seconds we'll both be dead. Nikita will not leave without me. This much I know, all too well.

She stares at me, as though frozen with shock. I swallow the lump of dread thickening my throat and try to stay focused. "We need a heartbeat."

Nikita looks down at the lock, then at me, her eyes flicking in despair over the ID pinned to my chest. I watch her face turn pale as she looks back at me with panic in her eyes.

"See if any technicians are alive."

Her eyes hold mine for a lingering heartbeat and then she is gone, our lives in her hands.

~*~*~*~*~

 _A heartbeat._ I rush back into the main chemical room, my own heart nearly pounding out of my chest. _Calm down...calm down._ I gulp in a few deep breaths, sucking the fresh air into my lungs in a desperate effort to cool my blood. Closing my mind off to what I'm about to do I crouch over the first body I come to, fingers frantically searching for a pulse. Nothing. _Shit!!_

It's the same story with the next lab technician. Michael's deadly efficiency may prove to be just that. _What the f-ck am I going to do?!_

Sudden movement out of the corner of my eye has my head jerking around. _Alive._ I move quickly to the man's side as he is frantically trying to crawl away on his stomach. His white coat is splattered with blood. I'm amazed that he is still alive. Gripping his shoulders I flip him quickly onto his back. He opens his eyes and gazes up at me imploringly. "Please... _help_ me."

 _Oh god._ What am I doing? _Saving Michael's life. And your own. Get going!_ I harden my heart, stand up and start dragging the dying man towards the safe where Michael is trapped. The technician slumps in my embrace and my heart lurches. _Don't die. Please don't die._ As I drag my unwilling ally towards the safe, my thoughts swirl in a million different directions, but somehow all end up in the same terrible place.

 _Andrea._ She knew that Michael was the only member of our team wearing the imprinted digital ID. She disabled the failsafe command before Michael entered the safe. None of these technicians would have had the chance to reactivate it. There is only one way that failsafe command could have been overridden, and that is by the same person who disabled it in the first place. Andrea.

 _He can't do this. We can't let him get away with this._

Wrong. _She_ is not going to get away with this. Anger shots through me, seeming to lend a much-needed surge of strength to my shaking legs. I finally reach the safe door, fear twisting coldly in the pit of my stomach. I have no idea how much time we have left.

I key in the code with shaking fingers, praying that I don't make a mistake. I don't, and the flashing display prompts me for the heartbeat ID. Gritting my teeth, I haul the nearly unconscious lab technician closer to the scanner, holding my breath as it reads his EKG. The inner door unlocks with a metallic clunk and Michael rips it open hurriedly. His name dies on my lips as he stares over my shoulder and raises his weapon to fire.

~*~*~*~*~

The sound of the gun firing is almost deafening, the echo bouncing crazily off the metal walls of the safe. Ears ringing, I watch as the body of the guard I've just shot falls heavily to the ground.

Nikita gives an almost imperceptible start of shock as she catches sight of this latest casualty. She releases her grip on the lab technician with a sudden jerk and his body crumples to the floor. She seems almost frozen, staring down at the man that we used to save our own lives. _Sixteen seconds and counting._ We have no time to waste mourning the dead. I put my hands on Nikita's back and push her forcibly through the outer doors of the vault. I keep pushing her until I feel awareness snap back into her body, her back muscles tensing beneath my splayed hands.

Nikita puts on a burst of speed and I follow on her heels, the blood pounding in my ears. Without speaking we start to run through the laboratory towards the exit. If Nikita and I are not on the right side of those heavy doors at the entrance in twelve seconds, we will be ripped apart by the blast.

We're fifty metres from egress when bullets tear into the computer monitors above our heads. We whirl around and return fire, glass crunching under our pounding feet. Three guards, perhaps four. A shot narrowly misses Nikita's head, shattering more monitors and bringing even more broken glass down on top of us. I reach out and put my hand on Nikita's head, forcing her to crouch down out of the line of fire as we run.

 _Please, just let me get her out of here alive._

The exit doors are suddenly in front of us and we lunge desperately through them. As soon as my body is clear, I fling one hand backwards to activate the infrared security beam. I only just manage to pull my hand back before the door closes behind us with a dull thud, and the room explodes into a fiery hell.

~*~*~*~*~

Waiting in van access for clearance, I stare at the back of Michael's head. He's only spoken to me once since we left the chemical plant. Even though we'd made it through the safety doors, we had still been pushed to our knees by the force of the blast at our backs. As I picked my bruised body up off the floor, I felt Michael's hand on my arm and looked up at him in surprise. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes caressed my face, darting from my eyes down to my lips. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers tightening almost painfully around my forearm as he took a deep breath and looked me in the eye.

"Thank you." It was barely more than a whisper, but it managed to send a hot shiver down my spine.

I couldn't speak, couldn't get the words out. In the end, I settled for a lame "you're welcome" smile and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

Things didn't get any more comfortable between us on the journey back to Section, either. The subject of Andrea, of what just happened out there loomed between us, and I got the feeling that Michael wouldn't be the one to broach the subject.

The doors open and we walk slowly into Section. Blacker and Morris disappear down the corridor, as though they can't get away from Michael and I fast enough. Now is as good a time as any for this discussion. Now, before I chicken out.

"Michael..." I see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice, as though he realises what's coming and doesn't want to know. _Too bad, mate._ I don't know why I'm bothering to point out the incredibly obvious to him, but I can't let what just happened go without doing something, saying something to him about it.

"We deactivated the failsafe on the way in."

He turns on his heel to face me, the strong lines of his face hardening into a blank mask. His eyes search my face for a seemingly endless moment before replying.

"Yes." A carefully neutral answer that acknowledges nothing at all.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I try again. "Then why did the door close behind you?"

Our eyes meet and hold. I see knowledge flicker darkly at the back of his eyes, but he's not going to be the one to say it. _Damn him._ I am _not_ going to just let this go.

"Because the failsafe was reactivated." I watch his face carefully. "There's only one person who could have done it."

~*~*~*~*~

Nikita takes a step forward until her face is only a breath away from mine. My heart starts to race as her clear blue eyes travel over my face, searching for the truth in my eyes. She is standing so close to me that I can feel the warmth of her body, smell the clean scent of her hair. The longing for her that is my constant companion comes to searing life, my pulse thumping unsteadily in my throat.

Nikita stares at me, waiting for an answer. She's aware that she is right, but she needs me to acknowledge it as well.

"I know." She lets out an unsteady breath at my reply, obviously glad that I have admitted what we both know.

One thought overrides all else. _I don't want to talk about this with her._ I turn and start to walk away from her.

Nikita's voice, urgent with concern, stops me. "Michael, she tried to kill you! What are you going to do about it?"

I hesitate. I can't explain the full mission profile concerning Andrea to Nikita, knowing full well that Andrea is not the only operative being evaluated here. I have already broken protocol by warning Nikita about the mission, as vague as my words were.

I can't endanger her any further. Operations and Madeline are waiting, watching for Nikita's reaction to this scenario. And yet the temptation to defend myself is so very strong.

But, if I tell her the truth...that I deliberately seduced, then rejected Andrea to enable Section to study her psychological response, then that will be the end of any sympathy she may be feeling for me. In her eyes, Andrea will become the innocent, a victim to be championed and defended.

I can't tell her. I keep walking, not wanting to look at her.

"Nothing."

An angry intake of breath is my only warning of her next words. "Why not? Because you feel guilty?"

I keep moving away from her, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Very hard to do when all I want to do is grab her, push up hard up against the wall and yell into her beautiful, betrayed face. _Yes, damn you! I am guilty of cheating on Elena, on Adam._ I keep walking. _Guilty of cheating on you._

The sexual act that I performed with Andrea only days ago has already faded from my mind, from my body. My feelings during our physical encounter are so far removed from what I feel for Nikita ~ every moment of every day ~ that it suddenly overwhelms me. I keep walking down the hallway, seeking the sanctuary of my office. I need to put some distance between us.

"What if she tries again?" Her voice is calmer, but there is still an undercurrent of tension, of suspicion.

I don't answer her. I don't feel like explaining to her that it's unlikely that Andrea will have another chance to try _anything_ in the future.

~*~*~*~*~

I watch Michael's back as he disappears down the corridor. _I just saved his damn life and now he's blowing me off?_ My anger fades slightly as I watch him walk slowly away from me, favouring his left leg.

He nearly died today. All because of Andrea's anger. I close my eyes and think of her face when she visited my apartment, the unspoken violence in her eyes, her words.

 _He can't do this. We can't let him get away with this._

I rub a hand over my tired eyes, trying to sort through my confused thoughts. Andrea _will_ try to hurt Michael again. He's not going to do anything to stop her. _So I guess that just leaves me._

I start to walk towards Madeline's office, my heart racing. _What do I tell her?_ Knowing Madeline, she will only smile and ask me if I'm letting my feelings for Michael cloud my judgment of Andrea. I flush at the very thought. I've had far too many conversations with Madeline that either begin or end with that question lately to give her such an easy opportunity to get under my skin.

I need to talk to someone who won't turn this into one big emotional minefield of a conversation. My mind comes up with an answer, but I don't really want to accept that particular piece of advice. But I have to. I take a deep breath and start to walk in the opposite direction, feeling very unenthusiastic. _I can't believe I'm doing this._

I'm going to talk to Operations.

~*~*~*~

I lean back in my chair to peer up into Operations' office once more. Empty. I scowl up at his glass picture windows. _Why is it that the damn man is always peering over my shoulder every second of the day, and the moment I actually want to talk to him, he vanishes into thin air?_

I slouch down, putting my feet up on the chair next to me. _Might as well be comfortable._ God knows where he's gone. But he's still in Section and I'm not leaving here tonight until I've talked to him about Andrea, about what she tried to do to Michael.

The gravelly voice of the very person I'm waiting on is suddenly right behind me, making me jump. "Is anything wrong?"

Caught unawares, I'm not quite sure how to begin. I shake my head and try to sit up straight. I'm not looking very lady-like at the moment.

"No, I'm fine." I'm stalling, and I know it. _Just tell him!_

He walks closer to me, and with his next words saves me the trouble of how to broach the subject of Andrea.

"Andrea has been cancelled."

 _Well, shit._ I tilt my head back, letting it rest on the back on my chair so I can see him. His face is impassive, but not vindictive.

"So you knew she tried to kill Michael."

"Yes." He walks a little bit closer to me, his eyes on mine. "We were _disappointed,_ but not surprised." I watch him warily. There is a strange air of satisfaction about him.

"We arranged a test." His face hardens slightly. "She failed."

 _A test. We arranged a test._

"A test?" The words come out slightly rough through a suddenly dry throat.

Operations comes to stand in front of me, his pale eyes studying my face intently. "We knew she wasn't guilty of treason." I suck in my breath, not quite able to take in what I'm hearing. He continues on calmly, but I know that he's noticed my reaction. "But we _did_ suspect her of being emotionally unstable. Obviously, we were right."

I push myself up off the chair and get to my feet slowly, my legs feeling as though I've been kicked in the shins.

 _He tried to tell you. All those hints he threw out...and all you could see was that he was with another woman._

Michael's just been required to be the resident whore once again and all I did was sulk. _But why didn't he just tell me?_ I look at Operations almost smug smirk and I suddenly know the reason. He couldn't. Andrea wasn't the only person whose reactions were being studied.

Frustrated anger flares. _I'm so sick of this shit._ "So, were you testing me, too? See if I'd report what I knew?"

Operations smiles at me. "There was no need to. You'd have told us."

I hate it when he does this. So sure of himself and of my predictability. "How can you be so sure?"

"We've been watching you very closely, Nikita." Operations smiles at me knowingly. We look at each other, my unwanted conspirator and I. The spectre of Adrian is suddenly hanging heavily between us, the memory of my briefing with him yesterday morning sinking like a stone to the pit of my stomach.

"You're one of us now."

He says it so casually, and yet his words tear into me. Just as he knew they would. I'm doing his dirty work for him and he likes it. His pleasure in having this direct control over me is almost palatable.

Blinking away the unwanted angry tears that have welled up in my eyes at his words, I can't stop them from echoing hollowly inside my mind. _You're one of us now._

I watch him walk away, a sad bitterness creeping into my heart. _Gotta hand it to him...the man knows how to use a good parting shot._

 _Bullseye._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

 

"You did an excellent job with Andrea."

I look at Madeline. _Damning with faint praise._

"I _had_ been concerned that perhaps your relationship with Nikita had affected your ability to perform all the duties required of you." I return her speculative gaze blandly, very glad that she is not able to see the inner disquiet that her words rouse in me. When I make no reply, she gives me a slight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm glad to see that I was wrong."

I look at her, my agitated thoughts masked by a hopefully empty expression. _You weren't wrong._

Madeline casts a quick glance at the file that she has brought up on her monitor. Andrea's file, no doubt. "It was a pity that Andrea wasn't able to control the more..." She pauses delicately. "...destructive qualities in her temperament." She looks up at me with a somewhat reflective smile. "Her profiling skills were quite extraordinary."

Adrenalin is still surging through my veins, an involuntary reaction to nearly losing my life. My stomach tightens at the thought that Nikita might have died because of Andrea's need to punish me. We could have both lost our lives because Section needed proof that this woman was capable of killing her fellow operatives. I have no stomach for any more of this subject.

"Is that all?"

Madeline blinks but recovers quickly, only momentarily put off by my abrupt manner.

"Not quite." Madeline rises from her chair and walks around her desk, coming to stand beside me. "What have you told Nikita about your relationship with Andrea?"

A cold flicker of unease travels down my spine as I calmly lie. "Nothing." I turn my head slightly to meet her eyes.

We exchange a long look, an unspoken challenge in her dark eyes as they probe mine. Finally, she breaks the tense silence that has stretched between us. "Good."

Feeling dismissed, I turn to walk away, a strange sense of relief seeping through me. The feeling dissolves as Madeline calls out softly. "Michael." I turn my head towards her, a knot of dread suddenly twisting in the pit of my stomach. Madeline studies my face, her gaze quietly inquisitive. "I would advise against informing Nikita of the true nature of your pursuit of Andrea."

Her somewhat high-handed suggestion manages to goad me into a response. "And why is that?"

"You know Nikita as well as I do, Michael. Perhaps better." I ignore the subtle insinuation and merely wait for her to continue. "In her eyes, Andrea would be the victim in this scenario." I recoil silently from her words, knowing that there is more truth in Madeline's statement than I want to admit.

"In my opinion, your working relationship with Nikita would only suffer if she were to know the real motivation behind your seduction of Andrea. It would perhaps be better to let her continue to believe that it was merely a sexual encounter." She pauses, a small smile curving her mouth. "Unless, of course, there's some other reason why you may feel the need to enlighten her?"

I meet her eyes, noting the speculative glitter in their dark depths, feeling a reluctant admiration for her single-mindedness despite myself. We both know that her question will not be answered to her satisfaction.

"No. No reason." She smiles again at my predictable lie.

We regard each other for a moment in silence before she nods slightly, turning to walk back to her desk. I leave quickly, the tension in my tired body easing slightly the moment I leave her office. Unfortunately, the tension returns with a vengeance as I make my way through Section towards Containment. I have to carry out Operations' latest directive; the order that I am to oversee Andrea's cancellation. Acid stings the back of my throat as I walk swiftly through Section. I have reluctantly come to accept that Andrea would have eventually met the same fate without my intervention.

The fact offers my troubled conscience no solace. Andrea was Section's victim as much as she was its enemy.

 

~*~

 

 _I need to get out of here, anywhere. Preferably somewhere with very loud music, strong coffee and a huge slice of white chocolate mud cake._ I walk slowly towards the elevator that will take me out into the real world. Looking around Section in a sweeping glance, I find myself staring at Michael's office. His door is shut, the blinds closed.

I start to drag my heels before finally slowing to a halt. _I have to talk to him about this._ I turn on my heel and head back toward his office. Standing outside his closed door, I almost lose my resolve. _What on earth am I going to say?_

My heart clenches as I think of the questions I _really_ want to ask him. _How could you? How could you do that to me? Why did you let me go on thinking that you'd found someone else?_ I catch myself, misery flooding my heart. Someone else? He wasn't mine to lose, not really.

And yet...deep inside myself, I can't deny that I have always thought of him that way. _Mine._ Everything that we have been through together, all those dirty little secrets that we kept from Section...they seemed to bind us together a strange kind of way. If Michael has been with another woman willingly since I have been in Section, he's been very careful to ensure that I've never known about it. It only seems to be the Section-ordered sexual conquests that he is required to wave under my nose and I know very well why. They like to kill two birds with one stone. _Remind Michael who's in charge, and yank my chain at the same time._

There is a hard knot of despair and sorrow in the pit of my stomach, and that same hot twist of jealousy feels tight across my chest. I close my eyes, realising at last just how Michael must have felt when he had to watch me with Jurgen.

 _Alone._

Whenever I saw Michael with Andrea, I had felt disorientated, as though someone had pulled the ground out from under my feet. I kept telling myself that it couldn't be real but it didn't work. All my old self-doubt, all my insecurities came flooding back in a rush. Even though his seduction of her screamed Section, I couldn't help it.

Of course, I know why I felt that way. _No mystery there._ Michael has refused to be with me, time and time again. The achingly precious memories of the few times that we have made love are thoughts that I clutch desperately to my heart. It's only been three months since the Armel mission, but sometimes when I look at him, it seems like a lifetime ago. I was so sure that I was in his heart somewhere, if only a little. But he doesn't want us to be together and I don't know why.

 _This is ridiculous, standing here feeling sorry for myself._ I wipe the back of my hands across my suddenly wet eyes and knock on the door quickly, before I lose my nerve.

No answer. I thought he was going straight to his office, but obviously I was wrong. He might have even gone home.

Feeling defeated I turn around to leave, only to swallow a gasp of surprise when I find Michael standing behind me. We stand and regard each other silently for a moment. My nervousness dissolves as I study his pale face, noting the dark circles under his eyes. I smile wryly and take a step back, giving him room to open the door to his office. Michael nods a polite 'thank-you' and steps past me. He doesn't close the door behind him. I dither for a few seconds before following, seating myself in his spare chair without waiting for an invitation.

I watch as Michael sits down and boots up his laptop. We sit in silence, the only sound in the room the clatter of his typing. He finally speaks without looking up, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I'm busy." He glances up after a few seconds when it becomes obvious that I have no intention of going anywhere.

Returning his glare with one of my own, I raise my eyebrows pointedly in the direction of his security scrambler. The silence between us stretches out awkwardly, his eyes locked on mine. I try desperately to keep the image of him with Andrea from floating through my mind, but I can't. I finally have to look away, not wanting him to see the pain in my eyes.

 

~*~

 

Nikita looks away, but not before I see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. If I wanted to spare her feelings by not telling her the truth, it appears that I have misjudged the situation. I wonder for a split second if Nikita noticed that I came from the direction of Containment a few moments. It's never pleasant, watching someone be cancelled. _Even if they have just tried to kill you._

Sighing, I give in. _She's not going to let this go._ I reach over and disable the surveillance in my office before taking a deep breath.

Nikita rubs her palm nervously down her thighs. "I've just spoken to Operations."

"I know." She looks at me, startled but recovers quickly.

"It was a mission, wasn't it? This whole Andrea thing. The story you gave her about having to access her personal files was all a lie, wasn't it?"

Any lingering inclination to follow Madeline's recent advice evaporates when I look into Nikita's clear blue eyes, eyes that are shining with a quiet anguish.

"Yes." I hold gaze with mine, willing her to understand. "Andrea was under suspicion regarding the deaths of several operatives during missions she had profiled. She was sent to us for evaluation by Section Two." Nikita sits motionless, her eyes almost seeming to burn into mine. "I was briefed by Operations and Madeline as to which method that evaluation was to take."

"I see." Nikita blinks and looks away. She seems almost accepting of the situation. I expected her to be furious with me over my treatment of Andrea, but it is as though she is just sad, rather than angry. I study her, unable to work out whether she is sorry for me or for Andrea.

"I had my orders, Nikita."

She stands up and places her hands flat on my desk, leaning forward so that our faces are only inches apart. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, her face pink with emotion.

"Tell me, Michael. Was the mission difficult for you?" Her question is slightly hesitant, as though she doesn't really want to know the answer but can't help asking. I know why she is asking. I've watched her with another man and been eaten away by the burning acid of jealousy enough times to recognize the emotion in someone else. She's jealous, and she doesn't want to admit it. I tilt my head back to look her in the eye, my heart racing as I remember making love to Andrea while my head filled with images of Nikita.

 _Do you want to know the truth, Nikita? I could scarcely perform, could hardly rouse my body long enough to have sex with her. You were there with us, between us...in my mind, in my heart, in the very blood in my veins._

All these painful thoughts whirl through my mind, but I only look at her calmly. I see her body tense then, almost as though she is preparing herself for a physical blow. She doesn't know what I am going to say, but I realize with a pang that she is dreading that I will hurt her with my reply.

I tell her the truth. "Yes. It was difficult for me."

She furrows her brow, narrowing her eyes as though trying not to cry. "Did you even think twice about the...orders that you had been given?"

"Yes. It was not a pleasant thing to have to do."

"Is that right?" Hurt drips from each word. "Well, Michael...I don't know that I quite believe you." She straightens up and folds her arms across her chest, hugging her body tightly as though she is suddenly cold.

She takes a deep breath, her voice cracking slightly. "Because from where I stood, you didn't seem to be very _conflicted_ about your actions at all."

I stare at her. _Conflicted?_ Recognition dawns. My own words have been thrown back in my face and with much more passion than I remember using at the time. Passion in Nikita's presence is a luxury I cannot allow myself.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That it was a mission, instead of letting me think..."

She stops abruptly, the colour high in her cheeks. I pretend not to notice her embarrassment.

"What would you have done differently?"

"I don't know. Probably nothing." She looks right at me, her eyes glittering. "But it would have made a difference to _me._ "

 

~*~

 

I want to take back the words as soon as I've said them, but of course I can't.

My heart leaps into my throat as Michael meets my probing gaze, his eyes no longer shuttered but gleaming with unspoken emotion. _I don't know what to believe any more._ He seems to sense my hesitation and stands up, walking steadily around his desk to stand beside me.

I stare straight ahead, trying to ignore the shiver that scurries down my spine as his hand touches mine.

"They weren't only watching Andrea and I." Michael rubs his thumb lightly over the back of my hand. "You were being evaluated as well, Nikita...your reactions, your...feelings."

I struggle for composure, trying desperately to hold onto my self-control even as Michael's closeness is causing a riot of sensation through every nerve ending in my body. My hurt feelings are rapidly dissolving in the face of the cold, harsh facts.

 _Michael has no choice. He has no more control over his life than you do over yours._

But his actions over the last week have hurt, more than I want to admit. I have to face the fact that I'm no more in control of my feelings for this man than Andrea was.

"So the poor woman was emotionally unstable. Who _isn't_ in this place?" I swallow the hard lump of jealousy that is thickening my throat, knowing in my heart that this isn't his fault, but unable to stop myself from seeing it from Andrea's point of view...my point of view. "If she wasn't before, she certainly was after the way Section treated her."

"Nikita." He moves his hand up to grip my arm tightly, pulling me roughly around to face him.

"Andrea deliberately caused the deaths of four operatives at Section Two by sabotaging her own mission profiles. Good operatives, good men and women who made the mistake of provoking her anger. You and I nearly became two more statistics today."

That stops me cold. _Four operatives._ I swallow the words I was about to throw at him in Andrea's defence and look at him helplessly. I have no idea what to say. This is _not_ what I expected to hear.

His eyes search mine.

"She is not the innocent here."

"Really? Then who is, Michael?"

His eyes soften as they look at me, touching my face in a visual caress that makes my legs go weak.

 _Oh, Michael...no. Please don't look at me like that. I'm not an innocent. Not anymore._

 

~*~

 

Nikita turns pale and pulls her arm out of my grasp abruptly. I stare at her silently, puzzled by her actions. She turns her face away for a moment, and when she looks back at me, I can hardly hide my startled reaction. Her beautiful face, usually so open and honest, is shuttered and unreadable. It's as though she has dropped a mask over her features, hiding herself from me. It's too close to my own ways for comfort. Seeing that veil of _nothingness_ smooth every emotion from Nikita's face is almost shocking. She is staring into my eyes and for once I have no idea what she is thinking.

I drop my hand and let her move away from me. She takes a few hesitant steps towards the closed door, turning back only when her hand is on the door handle.

"Michael, you told me once that you do what you have to do in order to survive, that we all have to..." Nikita looks at me, an odd penetrating stare. "Do you still believe that?"

I take a step closer to her, trying to read her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

She ignores my question. "Are the lives of innocents really worth lying...cheating..." She swallows hard and looks away. "...killing for?"

I stare at her. It's as though she's asking herself, rather than me. There is an unfamiliar hardness in her eyes, her voice flat and lifeless.

"Yes." Nikita turns her head at my whispered reply and I see the unshed tears glittering in her eyes. She nods at me briefly, opens the door and walks out quickly, leaving me confused and troubled in her wake.

I wait for a few seconds then follow her. Standing in the shadows near the door of my office I watch as Nikita makes her way across the main floor of Section. As I follow her with my eyes, I see her look up towards Operations office. He is standing in his usual position, surveying the proceedings below with a steely eye. As I watch he looks down at Nikita. She stops in her tracks and their eyes hold for a long moment, an intense exchange that sends a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

Operations gives Nikita an almost imperceptible nod and she blinks and looks away before slowly continuing down the hallway that will take her to the elevator to ground level, to the real world in which she no longer has a place.

I stand and watch her leave, wanting to follow her, knowing that I can't. My wife and child are waiting for me to come home, to tell them all about a business trip that never happened. I lean against the wall just outside my office and watch Nikita walk away, her shoulders slumped as though a great invisible weight is pressing on them.

I know that as soon as I arrive at the house that Section built, I will be showered with kisses and hugs, affection and love. Nikita is going home to an empty apartment. As I watch her disappear slowly down the long hallway, I can't help asking myself...which one of us is more alone?

 

~*~


End file.
